#Alien sweat shirt

[culturesfinest]

Cute alien kitty greeting crew neck sweatshirt for women dark - alien ufo cat - kitten ufo martian Add some custom character to any fall collection with a custom-printed sweatshirt. The Cotton Heritage M2480 crew neck sweatshirt is made with 65% cotton/35% polyester and features a 100% cotton face. Enjoy a perfect balance between coziness and agility. The sweatshirt features a self-fabric, 1/2 moon patch on the neck area. .: 65% cotton, 35% polyester (fiber content may vary for different colors) .: Medium-heavy fabric (8.5 oz /yd² (300 g/m²)) .: Regular fit .: Tear-away label this Cute Alien Kitty Greeting Crew Neck Sweatshirt for Women. Introducing the Cute Alien Kitty Greeting Crew Neck Sweatshirt for Women, a fun and playful addition to any wardrobe. This adorable sweatshirt features a cute alien kitty design on the front, making it a unique and eye-catching piece that is sure to turn heads. The crew neck style is classic and comfortable, making it perfect for all-day wear. Whether you're running errands, hanging out with friends, or just relaxing at home, this sweatshirt is the perfect choice for a casual and cute look. Made with high-quality materials, this sweatshirt is soft and cozy, providing the ultimate comfort for everyday wear. The relaxed fit is flattering on all body types, and the durable construction ensures that this sweatshirt will be a staple in your wardrobe for years to come. The cute alien kitty design is printed with vibrant, long-lasting colors, so you can be sure that this sweatshirt will continue to look great wear after wear. The crew neck style of this sweatshirt is versatile and easy to style. Pair it with your favorite jeans for a casual and laid-back look, or dress it up with a skirt and some fun accessories for a more playful and unconventional ensemble. The relaxed fit and classic design make it easy to mix and match with the rest of your wardrobe, making it a great choice for those days when you want to look cute and put together without putting in too much effort. This sweatshirt is also a great choice for those who love to stand out and express their unique personality through their clothing. The cute alien kitty design is a fun and quirky twist on a classic sweatshirt, making it a great conversation starter and a statement piece that is sure to get noticed. Whether you're a fan of all things cute and kawaii, or you just appreciate a fun and whimsical design, this sweatshirt is sure to become a favorite in your collection. In addition to its adorable design and comfortable fit, this sweatshirt is also a great choice for those who are conscious about the environment. It is made with sustainable and eco-friendly materials, making it a great choice for those who want to make a positive impact on the planet. By choosing this sweatshirt, you can feel good about your purchase knowing that it was made with the environment in mind. Overall, the Cute Alien Kitty Greeting Crew Neck Sweatshirt for Women is a fun and playful addition to any wardrobe. With its adorable design, comfortable fit, and eco-friendly construction, it's a great choice for those who want to add a touch of whimsy and creativity to their everyday style. Whether you're a fan of fun and quirky designs, or you just want to stay comfortable and cute no matter where you go, this sweatshirt is the perfect choice for you. Add this unique and eye-catching piece to your wardrobe today and bring a little extra fun and creativity to your everyday style.

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

[Sleeping with Simon] (I mean SFW sleeping not the other meaning)

Your mouth watering at the bread in your hand, the delicious smell fills your nostrils and you can’t wait to take a bite...

but wait, why’s the bread so hot and it’s getting hotter?! And why the hell is it growing bigger?!

just as the damn huge bread is about to crush you under it, your eyes snapped open.

Oh, it’s just a dream. You stare at the ceiling of your bedroom.

and you now understand why you had that weird dream, because Simon is suffocating you under his weight, the blanket already gets kicked by him and now pooling at the end of your bed, but under the man feels like a human heater by himself, you can feel yourself sweating in your shirt.

“Jesus... why are you so heavy...!” you manage to maneuver him back to his side of the bed, and you wrap the blanket around him before you return to your sleeping position, ready to fall asleep again.

“)&”-&&-,¥¥€|¥_£....” You hear Simon mumbling something more like a spell from the alien, and after a spin of his body, he rolls back and cross his fucking long leg around yours.

You don’t even try to care about the blanket now, which already gets kicked and flew to god knows where from the bed.

I will tie this big baby to the bed tomorrow. You look down at his peaceful face, and his arms securing you by your waist in place, let out a few chuckles, and shake your head slightly.

[mindmelter]

By New Commands

As Colby made his way toward the barracks. His thoughts immediately drifted to his three roommates—Tyler, Marcus, and Alex. They had been the worst of them all, constantly teasing him for his scrawny frame, his quiet demeanor, and the way he kept to himself. But now, everything has changed. Colby had power—power over them, and he was going to enjoy it.

And there they were, standing in the hallway just outside the room, each of them with their usual cocky grins gone, replaced with blank stares. The three of them stood in their olive-green military shorts and tight shirts, muscles bulging from hours of training, but now those muscles were at Colby's command.

"Tyler, Marcus, Alex," Colby said softly, "Turn and face me."

The three soldiers moved simultaneously, robotic, their bodies controlled by the alien parasites lodged in their brains. Their muscular arms hung by their sides as they faced him, their expressions still emotionless.

Colby's eyes wandered over their bodies, their muscular frames that had always intimidated him before. Now, they were nothing more than puppets.

"Flex for me," Colby commanded, a grin spreading across his face.

Without hesitation, the three soldiers raised their arms, their bulging biceps flexing hard, showing off every thick, chiseled muscle. Tyler’s arms strained as his veins popped, his defined muscles tense beneath his tight shirt. Marcus followed suit, his dark skin gleaming under the daylights as he flexed his thick, sculpted biceps. Alex, the third and most arrogant of the trio, flexed as well.

The night before, Colby—tired of all the bullying—walked out of the dorms in the middle of the night and broke into the military's lab; there, he found small vials with tiny watery slime inside; he knew what they were. It was an alien substance capable of turning anyone into an obedient puppet. The alien substance was more of a tool than a sentient being, It was mostly used on the enemies to make them talk.

Colby took three samples and went back to his dorm, where all the soldiers were sleeping; he went to Tyler's bed first and poured the slime into his ear, and watched the hunk convulse in his bed, then he did the same with Marcus and Alex.

What Colby didn't know was that only one drop of the alien substance would already make someone extremely susceptible to orders, but he poured an entire vial into each soldier, turning them into permanent puppets.

Now he had the three of them flexing at his command.

Colby walked around them slowly, taking in the sight of their impressive physiques. These were the guys who used to make his life hell in the military, who had teased him relentlessly. And now, here they were, doing exactly what he told them to.

He walked to Tyler first and pulled the flexing soldier for a passionate kiss. Tyler kept flexing mindlessly as his mouth was explored by Colby's tongue. When he pulled back, Tyler was left with his mouth frozen open, and just for fun, Colby spat inside.

Next, he went to Marcus, the dark skinned soldier.

"You used to think you were so much better than me," Colby murmured as he walked behind Marcus, his fingers brushing lightly across the soldier’s black biceps. "But look at you now. Completely under my control."

Marcus didn't respond, couldn't respond. His body remained still, locked in place, every inch of him obeying Colby's commands. Colby moved to Alex next—The shorter, but not less muscular soldier—placing a hand on his thick bicep, feeling the rock-hard muscles.

"Go ahead, flex harder for me," Colby whispered.

Alex’s muscles tightened even more, his veins popping out as he strained to flex with all his might. Colby could hardly believe how good it felt to have them like this.

"All three of you, take off your shirts," Colby commanded.

In perfect sync, Tyler, Marcus, and Alex reached down, pulling off their sweat-soaked shirts and tossing them aside. Their muscular chests were now bare, each one defined with perfect, rock-hard abs and thick, powerful pecs. The three soldiers remained silent, their eyes blank, their bodies perfectly still as Jack continued to inspect and worship their muscles, knowing that there was nothing they wouldn’t do for him now.

Next, he took them to the empty dorm room, and once Inside, he commanded the three mindless soldiers to kneel before him and share his cock. Colby smiled with satisfaction as he watched the three cocky soldiers fighting to suck his cock. Once his cock was wet with their saliva, he commanded them to take off their shorts and lie on the same bed with their asses up.

He took Tyler first, taking his ass in a single thrust. As he fucked him, Colby ordered Tyler to moan and act like a slut, which he did. Tyler moaned and begged Colby to fuck him harden, Tyler cried in pleasure and even came a few times, but when Colby pulled away, Tyler went back to his frozen mindless self.

Colby fucked Marcus' ass next, and then Alex. Life in the military couldn't be better for Colby now that he had three personal soldiers ready to serve him at any moment.

[hanasnx]

" AND THE SPIDERMAN IS ALWAYS HUNGRY " — venom.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOTES: takes place within the marvel's spider-man 2 game timeline. WARNINGS: fem reader ノ established relationship ノ predator/prey dynamic + kink ノ kidnapping ノ stockholm syndrome ノ explicit sexual content ノ dubcon ノ finger coiling in hair mention ノ hands wrapped entirely around a torso mention ノ decided not to do tentacle porn for this one ノ p in v ノ objectification.

You can hear the thunder pound against the entrance to his lair, demanding passage, sending a great storm to tear down the walls and wet the earth it's denied. Your companion believes himself to be larger than life, and above the travesty of natural disasters. Its tendrils house its cave, keeping the harsh weather out—and you in.

Before your abduction, your last ditch effort to appeal for your own life was to befriend this... stranger. You're unsure of what it is, or who it claims to be, other than the English name it gave you: VENOM. Apparently, you've got a PhD for a reason, because you're still alive, yet he won't let you leave. Lab conditions are not ideal, but he fetches what you list rather intelligently. It makes you wonder how he knows so much about Earth, when he's informed you that he's not from here. You hesitate to call him an alien when he looks so humanoid. He's rather affectionate with you to an uncomfortable degree, rewarding your dedication to his cause with experimental touches you do your best to appropriately shy away from. You've seen what he does to those that disappoint him, and his form changes shape at will. Some nights you wake up in a cold sweat after he's speared you through your gut with his sharpened hand in your dreams.

"Your... meteorite- it's under ground. I've yet to pinpoint the exact location but—" you explain, and you hear the husky sub-vocals of interest, exhaling as he looms over your shoulder to eye the monitor you're typing on. His jaw opens, and that sickening tongue slithers out like a snake, wetting his glistening razor teeth. You gulp as you watch him cautiously, your stomach churning at the sight of him move in slow like a predator, so close to your body. The weight of his hand at the back of your chair alarms you, and your neck begins to ache from how your crane it to look up at him. "—I'll... have the... coordinates... by morning..." you trail your words. Subconsciously, you lean away from him, but what's an inch of space when your companion fills a room?

He hums appreciatively, which comes out as a rumbling growl. When you were first captured, such a sound might've caused you to tremble, but you're a little more used to him now, so you avert your eyes to stare at the screen, the only brightness in the room. The weight from your chair shifts, and you tense. You don't dare move a muscle, and your eyes brim with moisture from refusing to blink. A palm sets on your shoulder, it's heavy and there's no warmth to it. Vaguely damp, it bleeds a cold through the material of your shirt and a strength pulls you in its direction. For a second—a second—you question if you should've revealed you might've outlived your usefulness. The gruff hum nears, and a presence ventures impossibly closer, and out of instinct you shy away, pinching your opposite shoulder up to angle your head, protecting your neck. A wet and gummy sensation presses its pad to your cheek, and the quietest squeak of disgust escapes you, narrowing your closest eye as it travels up to leave a slimy trail in its wake. His tongue licks up your jaw to your temple, matting up the hair it touches.

Air cools the sodden path he left on you, and when he seems pleased with himself, he leaves you. A powerful shudder shoots up your spine and with a shaking hand you wipe off the evidence of his affection with your shirt sleeve.

Now, you don't shy away nearly as much. His plans have been delayed, but you've come to look forward to his little signs of endearment towards you. A finger that coils a lock of your hair around it, a bundle of your things he retrieved from your apartment for you, even going as far as to use his strength to raise your arm and twirl you like a little doll. Small actions that are evident of some strain of humanity, however buried deep inside underneath his toothy exterior.

After you realize your bravery, you come to ask him for more attention. You run a hand down his cheek, trace a fang, invite yourself onto his lap... He takes note of your bids.

Swapping pleasure becomes as easy as sharing breath, and love-making with him is nothing short of violent. Large hands encircle your torso entirely, claws bluntly dig into soft flesh, prickling your skin in a most delicious way as a rod he fashioned for you divvies up your insides. Your palms are flat on a surface, bracing his weight as he pushes into you. As if he did it on purpose, the phallic shape he formed has a girth a size too big, watching with intrigued interest at how your little pleasure hole struggles when stuffed full. He curls his great body forward, that slippery tongue's tip slotting into the dip of your tailbone, and tracing the line up your spine. You shiver, your palm coming to one of his fingers on your waist to wrap entirely around it.

Like a weightless toy, Venom handles you effortlessly, pushing and pulling you to seat fully on his length just as he offers his hips to you. The noises you make is like music to him, pressing his chest to you so he can be as close to your symphony as possible. You turn your head, brows pinched and pretty countenance skewed, panting like a little desperate animal. A delicate sheen of sweat layers your skin, the taste of it intoxicates him, and he wetly licks another stripe on your neck, molding it against your jawline until you angle your head. Your own hangs out of your mouth, chasing his, and he obliges you, entwining his coiling tip around yours just as he sheathes, forcing a choked sound out of your throat.

Now that you've invited him, he advances, the girth of his tongue causing your jaw to ache from being pried open as he fills another one of your holes. That crooked grin doesn't bother you as milky white eyes observe your strange and addicting behavior, feeding off the chemical in the brain he's inhabiting.

[hannahbarberra162]

Emperor's Prize, Part 4 (Yandere Alpha!Shanks x Omega!Reader)

18+ MDNI on Ao3

The other parts

Your POV

Everything was wrong. 

You woke up to the morning sun rising over the horizon with the sheets beneath you drenched in your sweat. It felt like there was static electricity sparking across your skin from head to toe and you were overcome with a new restlessness. Nervous energy coursed through your body and you needed to expel it immediately. Your eyes swept around the Emperor’s untidy cabin and the urge to rearrange everything struck you. Nothing was different than the day before but now everything just wasn’t right. Given Hongo’s warning, you knew you were going into heat but you hadn’t expected it to feel like you were an alien other in your own skin. 

In addition to the physical sensations, your mind felt fuzzy to the point you couldn’t complete a single thought. You knew that during your heat you’d be in a sort of fugue state; your mind taking a back seat to the needs of your physical body. You would want to do anything to satisfy your Alpha with pleasing him becoming your main priority. Heat was a physically and mentally vulnerable  time for Omegas.. A corrupt Alpha could claim you against your rational will under the haze of the heat or cause irreparable harm to your body. In an ideal world, an Omega would have the time and ability to choose their Alpha before and during their heat. But…you would have the Emperor ashe’d made it clear there was no other choice. 

You inhaled deeply through your nose while sitting up and nearly vomited on the spot. There were so many conflicting harsh and irritating smells that you couldn’t even determine which was the most abhorrent to you. You stood up after kicking the blankets off your feet and began investigating to find the source of your current displeasure. The Emperor’s clothes all over the floor were the primary culprits of the unbearable stench. Even though he hadn’t told you that you could touch his belongings, he could surely understand that some items needed to be removed from his room. The thought that you hadn’t been given permission flitted away from your mind as you began to sift through the discarded clothing.

Picking up individual items, you sniffed each piece of clothing carefully. Some smelled so incredible that you held them over your nose and mouth like a mask while inhaling the rich scent of cloves and oranges deep into your lungs. One of the best smelling items was one of the Emperor’s open chested shirts. You weren’t sure what exactly was different about this white linen shirt from all the others but you couldn’t get enough of the smell. You disrobed from the clothes you were wearing and slipped into the shirt with the hem reaching to your thighs. Continuing on in your quest, you sniffed the next garment and immediately threw it across the room where it ended up landing at the door to the cabin. It was a white dress shirt with a ruffle in the front and the initials “DM” stitched onto the collar. The shirt itself was nice enough but it smelled like an absolutely vile combination of wine and leather. The smell of the ruffled shirt bothered you so severely you went to wash your hands to be rid of it.

You ended up sorting the Emperor’s clothes into three groups. The pile with the amazing smelling clothes went onto the bed where it was arranged in a circle. You weren’t sure exactly what the end result would look like but your instincts were telling you to start building a nest. The disgusting clothes went to the farthest possible point from your nest and joined the other foul smelling shirt beside the door. You left the clothes that didn’t bother you, which there weren’t many of, where they were on the floor. The majority of the clothes made it onto the bed, including the Emperor’s cloak you had worn the first time you’d met him. As you finished sorting things, there was a brief rap on the door before it opened. The door opening revealed the Emperor bringing you a tray of breakfast.

“Whoa, what’s all this by the door?” he asked, stepping over the pile of clothes and into the room. You scrunched your nose as he approached you. His scent on the clothes was pleasant but he didn’t belong in the room with you. You wanted him gone so you could build your nest in peace but weren’t sure how to communicate that in a way that didn’t get you in trouble.

“You alright, Love? You look warm,” Shanks continued while setting down the tray and reaching out his hand to touch your forehead. You stepped back from his intense smell as it grew closer to you. It was simply too potent for you right now and you couldn’t bear to be near him. Ducking under his arm, you scurried to the other side of the bed in an effort to put distance between you. The Emperor was undeterred and followed you around the bed as you kept taking steps back. Soon you were left with nowhere else to go as your back hit the wall of the cabin. Even though you risked punishment for your rude behavior, you couldn’t stop yourself from pinching your nose shut to keep out his smell as he approached you.

“Yeah, your heat’s starting. You began building your nest, hm?” Shanks asked, his hand drifting over one of his old shirts on the bed as he continued on his way to you. You practically hissed at him while narrowing your eyes at him before moving towards the shirt and rearranging it to your liking. It was pure instinct making your fingers itch with the need to move it, but couldn’t he see that he had moved the shirt to the wrong position? You hoped he wasn’t keeping a tally of your mistakes against him but you couldn’t stop yourself from adjusting it so it was the way it needed to be. 

Reaching for you, he put his palm on your forehead as you leaned back farther away from him. He was also warm, adding to the heat of your body to your chagrin.

“I’m guessing you want me out of here then,” Shanks said with a boyish grin, unperturbed by your annoyed body language. You searched his face for any signs of malice before you nodded your head in response. He laughed easily at your answer and put his hand up in mock surrender. 

“All right, I’ll leave. I’ll bring some clean blankets and linens for you but other than that I’ll be on the deck if you need me, yeah?” he said as he turned to go, stepping over the clothes pile again. 

“M-may I ask you for a favor, Emperor?” you blurted out at his receding back. You had to talk to him about the claiming mark now since you weren’t sure how long you’d be rational. This was your first heat so you wanted to ask while you had the chance. The Emperor’s eyebrows hiked slightly as he turned to you.

“Sure, Love. What can I do for you?” he asked with curiosity leaking into his tone. You took a deep breath to brace yourself for asking your question. You thought he’d deny you what you were asking for like he had with your island expedition but you had to at least try.

“I - I don’t want the bite. The, um, the claiming mark. I know, um, that - I - um, you might - you can do -” You shrank back when the Emperor drew near you once more; curling your arms around yourself in an attempt to reassure yourself. It wasn’t the stench this time that had you moving away, you knew from experience how strongly Kid had felt about the claiming bite and how desperately he’d tried to make it form. A claiming mark was supposed to be the final step of an Alpha / Omega courting with it supposedly creating an unbreakable bond between the pair. It was said that some highly compatible couples could even sense each other’s emotions through the bond, but that was surely just an old wive’s tale. In reality, it would be a way for the Alpha to secure the Omega to their side forever by creating a lasting bond between them. If you got a claiming bite from the Emperor, you’d never be able to endure another heat cycle without him. You’d never ever be free again.

He put his large index finger under your chin before tilting your head up to look at him. Even with your head filled with cotton you could feel your underlying fear instincts kicking in. You wanted to avert your eyes but couldn’t summon the courage to as his eyes bored into your own.

“I won’t, I promise,” the Emperor replied with the sincerity of the vow settling under your skin as he kissed your forehead. It was the best you could hope for, but you wondered what a pirate’s promise was worth? You stayed silent while you nodded slightly to indicate you understood. Closing your eyes to focus, you tried to remember your manners. It would be no good to start your heat off on the wrong foot with the Alpha who’d be…helping you through it.

“Thank you Emperor,” you croaked out as he kissed your forehead. He turned and smiled at you once again, his smile lines etched into his tan skin. His deep red hair shone in the sun as he grinned at you, giving you his full attention. He really was very handsome, you conceded to yourself as he left the cabin with an ambling gait.

“See you soon, little Omega.”

Shanks POV

Shanks’ smile remained on his face as he closed the door to his cabin behind him. You were absolutely adorable and he couldn’t get enough of you like this. Your moody feistiness was showing him the most spirit he’d seen out of you since you’d been on the ship. You reminded him of a little cat, hissing and puffing up its fur when all it really needed was to be taken in hand and pet until it purred. The clothes on his bed alerted him that you’d started building your nest and the sweat dripping between your breasts told him you’d be in heat likely by nightfall. He reluctantly gave you leave even with the absolutely divine sweet smell emanating from your every pore. He wanted to roll around with you and wrap around you like a blanket but he’d been warned you would want to be left alone at this particular juncture. Hongo had informed Shanks that you would want privacy to build your nest so it didn’t bother him that you wanted to be left alone.

Hongo had said you would need time and space to prepare yourself for the coming heat. So Shanks knew you would be picky about your surroundings, getting rid of anything you didn’t like and preparing the room along with yourself for your heat. What he hadn’t anticipated was you cracking open the door while he was still in front of it and throwing a pile of clothes out onto the deck, before slamming the door shut again. The various crew members lounging on the deck glanced between the door and their bemused Captain. Rockstar’s eyes roved over the pile of clothing and narrowed his eyes.

“Hey! That’s my favorite shirt!” griped Rockstar while snatching his gray shirt from the pile.

“And my missing bandana!” Lucky Roo chimed in before grabbing his kerchief with a huff. 

“The rest of the shit is mine, except for this,” Benn said, holding up the ruffled shirt between two fingers. He was smoking yet another cigarette as he piled the rest of the clothes in his muscled arms. Shanks had noticed that Benn was smoking like a chimney since you came onboard. Luckily they’d be docking at the island later that day and Benn could buy as many as he wanted. He was, at best, unpleasant when he ran out of smokes at sea.

“Ok, so I borrowed a few things. So what? You got 'em back, no harm no foul,” Shanks said  with a shrug brefore leaning against the door to the cabin. 

“What else you got in there, huh? Probably more where that came from,” Rockstar grumbled, turning to head towards the door.

“ DON’T.” 

Rockstar froze where he stood, his body unable to move as Shanks’ Command crashed over the deck. His face was stuck somewhere between shock and horror as he found himself at the wrong end of his Captain’s aggression. Shanks hadn’t meant to utter the Command, much less combine it with his Conqueror’s haki. Calming himself down with a deep breath, he released the energy and Rockstar slid to his knees, panting for breath. Shanks exchanged a look with Beckman as the first mate helped Rockstar back to his feet. 

‘Stay away from the Captain’s quarters. Three meter radius around the whole area,” Beckman decreed. Not that the crew needed to be warned as the discharge of haki was enough on its own. Sighing, Shanks sat down in front of the door to his cabin with his back against the familiar worn wood. He could excuse his aggression the first time around, but this was becoming too much. Hongo said that an Omega in heat could cause him to go into rut if he wasn’t careful. Someone like Shanks, at his level of power, couldn’t afford to go into a mindless state where all he cared about was fucking. For the sake of his crew, his ship, and all the people who depended on him for protection, Shanks needed to keep his mind as clear as it could be and avoid the rut. Hongo had advised him not to distress you and to keep you sated, which should prevent him from going into overdrive to protect you from any perceived harm.  It would be harder than Shanks had anticipated if someone stepping within three meters of his cabin was enough to set him off. 

“Stay there and guard the girl,” Beckman said while picking up the rest of the clothes on the deck.

“I’m not guarding her, I’m -” Shanks began protesting only to be silenced by his first mate.

“And stop taking my clothes ya shrimp, don’ fit ye anyways. Do yer wash instead then you’ll have somethin’ to wear,” Beckman continued while pointedly ignoring his Captain’s words. Shanks humphed but gave no further argument as he listened to the scuttering behind the door. Secretly, he was pleased that all the clothes you’d rejected were those from the crew and Mihawk. Everything you’d kept and moved to the bed was from his own wardrobe and drenched in his scent. Even though you hadn’t been given a choice in who you’d be mating this heat, your body had chosen him. And his certainly chose you.

Your POV

The ship had been docked for an hour now, gently bobbing in the waves with the sounds of the crew dissipating into the night air. The crew had hurriedly left the ship as tension rose corresponding to your coming heat. You still hadn’t left the cabin nor did you have any inclination to. You’d finished your nest a few hours prior with everything exactly how you wanted it. The Emperor had offered you fresh linens but you didn’t want to have the smell diluted from what was already in the room and you huddled in the center of your nest. Your stomach twisted itself in knots while an uneasy sense of anticipation settled over you. Your heart rate picked up and you squeezed your eyes shut in an attempt to push away your rising stress as you worried about the potential outcomes of your heat. Though you were glad you’d never experienced it before now, you wished you knew what to expect beyond what you’d heard from vague rumors and hearsay.

You were curled up naked in the Emperor’s cloak and you began rubbing the material between your fingers when your stomach went from butterflies to full blown pain. It felt like the worst cramps you’d ever felt in your life and you let out an agonizing groan. Clutching your stomach, a gush of liquid flooded out of you, coating the cloak in your slick. You’d heard going into heat wasn’t pleasant but you didn’t know it would be so incredibly painful. For what felt like the millionth time in your life, you cursed your designation and wished you’d been born as anything but an Omega. Your thoughts on your life dimmed as another wave of cramps hit you and more slick spread between your thighs. 

Mindless need had you pushing your hand between your thighs in a futile bid to quell the building ache coming from deep within you. Your core felt like it was missing something you needed as much as the air you were breathing. Whimpering as your fingers sought your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub did nothing to subdue your pain or desire. With tears beading at your lashline you tried to think of something, anything, that could help you.

You needed…an Alpha.

Shanks POV

Bursting into the cabin at the first sounds of your distress, Shanks was first met with the nearly palpable smell of an Omega in heat. If he’d had any lingering doubts about keeping you on the ship before, they were gone now. His cock was aching as he located you in your nest on the bed, ready to fill you with his seed. His cloak below you was drenched with your slick as you writhed, your small fingers rubbing at your clit fruitlessly while crying out for him while you sought to alleviate your own pain. You looked like an offering to an ancient god, a sacrifice left on an altar to be consumed.

“Alpha it h-hurts…Alpha… A-alpha… need you…hurts” you cried out, waiting for him to come and alleviate your pain. Disrobing what little he had on, Shanks loomed over you in the bed, his one remaining thought was to ask permission before joining you in the nest. 

“Omega, shhh. I’m here for you, I’m here. Can I -”

“Alpha, it h-hurts, I c-can’t -” Shanks took that as all the permission he needed as he crawled over your nest to get to you. He removed your hand from your clit as pleasure would be found only from him for the rest of your heat. Pinning both your wrists above your head, he leaned down and nipped along your scent glands with his teeth, causing you to gush more slick and whine loudly.

“Alpha, p-please, I -” 

“I’ll attend to you. Hush,” Shanks commanded as you stifled your cries, sniffles still coming occasionally.

“Beautiful Omega,” Shanks said simply while taking in your blushing face and dilated eyes. Your nipples were pert and begging for his mouth and your cunt was calling for his cock. Wanting to relieve your pain, Shanks let go of your wrists and lined himself up to your dripping cunt. He needed to be in you immediately - for both your sakes. You were hurting, needing an Alpha's seed within you to quell the pain of the heat. Shanks felt like he was going to go into a mindless rut if he didn't start fucking you now .

Sheathing himself in one long stroke, you moaned loudly and arched further into him as he bottomed out within you. Your tight channel was gripping him so perfectly that he wanted to spend the rest of his life deep within you. Shanks quickly began a harsh rhythm, his thighs smacking the backs of your legs as you wrapped your shins behind his back. Your legs began to shake when Shanks rubbed your clit with his thumb while he fucked you.

“All for me,” Shanks muttered before catching one of your nipples between his teeth. He bit gently as you hissed and held his head in your hands. Omegas were known to come easily and repeatedly during their heat and you were no exception. Your pussy fluttering around his length when you reached your first of what would be many peaks. Shanks desperately wanted to bite your scent glands as you threw your head back in bliss, but he’d given his word that he wouldn’t. You were living with him now, he could wait to give you the claiming mark until after your heat passed. 

“ Al-phaaaa, ” you cried out with your first orgasm hitting you and your eyes rolled back in your head. Shanks knew that no matter how many times you came it wouldn’t matter - he had to come in you repeatedly to fully alleviate the pain. Still hard within you, Shanks slowed his pace but continued fucking you through your orgasm. Putting his forehead on yours, you opened your eyes to meet his. Your heavy lidded eyes and blown pupils alerted him that your true self was being consumed by your heat. Your true personality would be hidden under the haze of heat until the tail end when you’d come back to yourself in bursts. As Shanks watched your face smooth out in relief after contorting in pleasure, a flash of your real self flickered through your eyes. It was like you’d come to the surface and were frightened of what you found. You looked around rapidly and tried to wiggle away from under him as distress soured your scent. Shanks shushed you and used his arm to keep you under him.

Your lower lip wobbled and Shanks regretted his decision to wait until you kissed him first. He wanted to soothe you and so settled for cupping your cheek in his palm as you started to cry. He knew the lucid version of you would be lost soon but he wanted to make sure you felt safe and secure while you were mentally present.

“Shhhh. It’s me, Shanks. I’m here with you. It’s ok, it’s ok. You’re safe -” he said softly, rubbing your cheek. Your eyes roved over his face as if trying to etch it into your memory. You opened your mouth to speak but just as quickly as your lucidity had come it went, leaving you back in your uncomfortable heat. You grimaced and moved underneath him, wanting to fuck again to alleviate the rising pain. 

“Alpha, please, Alpha, I need you,” you cried out for him with tears streaking down your face as your contractions resumed wracking your smaller body.

“Again already, little Omega?” Shanks asked the more pliant version of you. You nodded your head as fat tears ran down your cheeks. Licking a trail all the way up your face, Shanks nipped your ear before he began moving again. Your scent glands were producing more than ever before, he needed some of you in his mouth before he bit you and broke his promise. 

“Ag-gain,” you confirmed, your body already crying out for another orgasm as well as his own.

“As many times as you need,” he cooed as you began moaning once more. Now the raw need inside him wasn’t building as quickly as the time before so he could spare some time to help you adjust to his presence. Settling himself down between your legs, he opened your thighs to reveal your glistening core. You whined at the loss of his thick cock but yelped instead when Shanks nipped your inner thigh with his sharp teeth.

“Quiet,” was all he had to say before you parted your legs farther to give him access. You shivered as Shanks flattened his tongue and licked your cunt in one long stripe from your hole to your clit. Your slick tasted divine and he couldn’t get enough as it coated his face from your leaking hole. Your hands found their way into his hair as he began sucking, licking, and mouthing at your clit. He was being an unfair tease by bringing you to the brink of orgasm repeatably before stopping his ministrations. Shanks lapped at you as your slick gushed out in anticipation of a climax you had yet to receive. Pointing his tongue, Shanks groaned as he drove it into you much like his cock had been previously. He couldn’t get enough of your delicious slick and he swore he’d never had an ambrosia so divine before. 

Bending your knees, you put your legs on his back and pulled his hair to coerce him to let you come. Shanks smiled into your pussy - he had half a mind to discipline you for trying to tell him what to do but he didn’t want to be away from your cunt for a single moment. 

“Not on my face, on my cock,” he said while moving back to flip you over to hands and knees. Entering you once more from behind, he fucked you with long and slow thrusts as you continued to leak slick. You were moaning with every thrust, making Shanks glad the crew had left the ship so they wouldn’t hear the delicious noises you made. Taking his fingers and running them up your thigh, he gathered your slick on his fingertips before he raised them to his mouth. He tasted your juices and hummed with delight. Running his finger through again, he leaned forward towards your face.

“Open,” he commanded without having to use any Alpha power behind it. Your jaw dropped immediately like you couldn’t wait to comply with whatever he told you to do. Sticking his fingers in your mouth, you sucked off the juices on his fingers and continued to suck on his fingers as he kept moving within you. 

“Stop,” he whispered into your skin before biting your shoulder gently. Shanks was going to keep his promise to you - he would - but he couldn’t resist a little nip along your soft skin. You ceased sucking immediately, opting instead to drop your front to the bed and turning your head to take his length further within your body. Shanks was amazed at the degree to which you obeyed him. Sure, you’d been obedient beforehand, but it had come with trepidation and hesitancy. You complied out of fear of reprisal, afraid of his every movement. But now you were completely willing to submit to him and allow him to do with you as he pleased. The feeling of heady power was not unlike the rush that came with using his Conqueror’s Haki. There was almost no one beyond his control, he could make even the proudest of Alphas bend the knee with his might. None of it felt as rewarding as your soft, hot, tight, cunt wrapped around him like a silk fist. This was the due of an Apex Alpha, he thought as your cunt pulsed around him. 

Shanks leaned back to watch his cock slide in and out of you as he fucked you. You pushed back against him, your body desperately trying to get more friction, more of his length, just more. Shanks used his hand to keep you in place as he started pounding into you more forcefully. You didn’t get to control the rhythm or speed, you were there to take what he chose to give you. You accepted his offering by stilling your body and pushing your knees further apart. Maybe you did need a little discipline, he thought as he drove into you. He would go easy on you, he decided, after all this was your first heat and you hadn’t had…positive experiences in the past.

Continuing to fuck you from behind Shanks surprised himself - his favorite position was to have his partner ride him. Normally by this point, Shanks would be enjoying a lovely view and would fuck up into you when he wanted to. Except…he didn’t want to have you any other way besides in front or beneath him. He was driven by the need to conquer you while accepting your submission and demanding more.

Shanks grabbed the ends of your hair and wrapped his fist in it twice, using the makeshift ponytail to pull your head back. You keened as your pussy clenched tighter, showing your enjoyment at how he was using you as he continued snapping his hips against your ass. He wished he had both hands so he could thumb your clit but the way your cunt was pulsing told him you were close again. He could see why Alphas wanted their Omegas to keep their hair long now, it was an easy way to control you and contort your body. Pulling harder made you whimper as another wave of slick hit his thighs. You were close, and he was sure if he kept going he’d be able to get you to come in a few minutes even without touching your clit. A thought touched the corner of his mind and Shanks decided to test out a theory.

“ Come,” he Commanded in his strongest Alpha voice. You howled your release as your already tight cunt contracted around him, milking his cock to orgasm. Your cunt convulsed around him seemingly endlessly as you rode your high. Finally sighing from relief, you collapsed onto the bed for a moment’s respite. Shanks was still on his knees with his cock already hardening again in anticipation of your need. He was on a razor’s edge and barely able to avoid entering a rut himself at the sight of his cum leaking out of your soaked cunt. He was pleased his command had worked, it was a way he could compensate for lacking a second hand. 

You were laying face down on the bed, already mewling your need for another round. Hongo had said the experience would be intense but Shanks hadn’t been prepared for something like this. Rolling you over, Shanks took in your blissed out expression and relaxed body. He’d never seen you like this and his heart clenched at the sight. He could almost see who you were before you were taken from your island, but it was just out of reach. He idly pondered what you were like before Kid met you and your life had dramatically changed course.

“ Smile,” Shanks Commanded, wondering what you would look like if he had met you first. Your face broke into a huge grin that reached your eyes, alleviating the stress and lethargy he’d seen previously. It took his breath away - you shone as bright as the sun and it reminded him of easier times and happier days. Shanks couldn’t stop himself from smiling back, it felt like you were lovers lounging after your first intimate moment together. For a moment you two weren’t an Alpha helping an Omega through heat by necessity. He wished you always looked like this, that you were happy to be there, to be with him. It wasn’t real, you were just lost to the heat, he knew that, but…

“ Fuck me like you love me.” 

The Command came out before he could stop it or rationalize it away. You smiled even wider, stretching your arms up and around his neck. Pulling him down to you, you kissed him tenderly on the lips. You spread your legs and wrapped them around his waist while continuing to press your lips to his. He licked against your lips for entry and you opened your mouth allowing the kiss to deepen. It was so similar to the first time he’d had you but this was love and tenderness, not a rough fucking to alleviate your primal needs. You moved your hands from behind his neck to his face, cupping his cheeks in your hands like he was a treasure. 

“I’m so glad you found me, Shanks. I’ll never leave you,” you said, your eyes filled with love and adoration as you whispered to him, punctuating your sentences with sweet kisses to his cheeks and lips. Shanks kissed you back as he languidly began making love to you, stroking your arms tenderly with his own. Shanks had lost many people in his life - Roger, Rayleigh, Buggy, so many others to fighting, wounds, drownings - that it felt right to have someone all of his own. Someone he could protect and cherish, to keep for himself.

Taglist: @v1ennie @staarflowerr @treelogirl @rebeccawinters @nocturnalrorobin @mochiclouds @cursedforlife666 @epochal-oracle @whore-of-many-hot-men @one-piecelover @anemonyee @joana7654-blog @mfreedomstuff @littlelovebug98 @hannya-writes @babi-lamb @sanjisleggy @princessuta061108 @twismare

[alienpossession]

Ever since I laid eyes on the group of tradies that worked on my neighbor's house, their fate has been sealed to become yet another collection of men infected by the alien spores I cultivated for my own lustful fulfillment. I don't want to bore you with how did I have access to the so-called alien spores or how I, a mere 28 years old nerdy scientist, ended up leading the Research & Development department of a Big Pharma within 2 years of merely finishing my grad school, so let's cut it directly to me stalking one of the tradie when he shopped for some material for my neighbor's house.

When he went to the quieter side of the vast material stores seemingly lost in the selection of wood panels, I simply dropped the spores to the floor and let it made its move to approach his woods....stealthily.

It proven to be yet another successful conquest as the spores quickly latched itself to his pants, which surprised him as he tried to swat it away with his hand as he thought that it was merely some insects or something. The contact with his palm enabled the spores to reach more part of his body and before long, the spores shot itself through the available orifices such as his mouth, nose and ear as it then spread all over his organ system within seconds. When the takeover is finalized, he's a mere drone of his former self. With their core hivemind under my control as I provided it with life sources for months, like a good pet of mine, he started to grin at me and then undressed his clothing

"Wow, yet another bodies. You are one lustful human, don't you?"

I just licked my lips as my hands started to wander to rub my tenting crotch

"Go sniff my reeked shirt and wait for me in my truck, nerd. Let me build up some sweat by lifting these heavy panels and shit like the real man I am so you can have more potent musk to inhale later when we go back to my workplace,"

Obviously, after giving him heads throughout the 12 miles-supposedly-30-minutes-drive that he purposefully lengthened into 75 minutes (and 30 miles!) by taking the more scenic and secluded routes and pitstop where he fucked the shit out of my hole before I shoved his mouth into my leaking cock, he came back inside my neighbor house to infect his fellow tradies. When he called my phone number around 10 minutes after his takeover, I walked into my neighbor house with the 3 tradies already incorporated into the hivemind

I eventually spent my entire evening fucked in the construction zone/my neighbor's house by the tradies trio that fucked the shit out of my holes as if I'm some kind of slut they used to bang when they were straight and still human. The way they really treated me as if I'm just a fleshlight under their mercy really made my head spin as I never really experienced such a senseless fucking from multiple men at once.

The 3 new addition of tradies fit perfectly into my ever-growing collection. Plus, with my bald-headed, intimidatingly huge neighbor followed their fate as I eventually converted him into yet another puppet, I have easier time to gather them all in my so-called "sex dungeon" so I can inspect them in one go while they can mingle together in the basement that supposedly used by my Romanian neighbor to manage his crime enterprises with his fellow underworld colleague.

Well, maybe I should let Dragos to gather his friends and then use the spore to convert them all, must be nice to have his buddies all synchronized with him under one hive mind, right?

[crushmeeren]

♡ Master List Link

♡ Bakugou/ Fem Reader/ Kirishima

♡ Everyone involved in this fic is aged up/18+.

♡ Warnings; reader is 6 months pregnant, cursing, pussy eating, blowjobs [ M/F — M/M ], vaginal sex

If you were to describe what it’s like to be six months pregnant with Katsuki’s baby, you would use a few key phrases.

1. — You’re in a perpetual cycle of unease and sporadic body aches.

2. — You’re consistently sweating like a whore in church.

3. — Your belly has been stretched to the point it looks as if a watermelon has been shoved inside.

These occur often, the only difference today is how infuriatingly much your lower back has been smarting. The baby’s weight is really starting to take a toll on you.

So you’ve decided it’s in your best interest to set up camp on the large fuzzy couch in your living room. You’re only wearing soft shorts and a large, worn out Red Riot T-shirt and you’ve stockpiled all the cozy blankets in the near vicinity.

It’d been a few hours since you became a couch potato, aimlessly scrolling through your phone and watching various movies or TV shows.

Katsuki’s been occupied playing some video game in the other room. Loudly enough to wake the dead, you might add. Your ears have been assaulted with his furious yelling on and off for the past couple hours.

He’s repeatedly told Todoroki that he’s the “worst player in existence” and to “fuck off and die.” You sincerely hope Todoroki is ribbing him just as much, but knowing the stoic man, he more than likely isn’t.

And much to your chagrin, Eijirou has been out on patrol all day.

Soft orange and yellow light has begun to cast shadows across the living room as the sun sets. You’re barely paying attention to a Tik Tok when your baby starts to poke and prod roughly at your ribs.

The fluttering sensation makes you squirm and sit up ram-rod straight. The sudden movement sends a bright flash of pain radiating throughout your lower back and it punches the breath from your lungs. The partially frantic instinct to call out to the blonde for help leaves your mouth before you can think twice.

“Kastukiiiii,” you whine for him loudly, a pleading lilt to your tone. You shift your weight, making sure to keep your feet perched on the large ottoman in front of you. You wait momentarily but only silence greets you.

“Katsuki!” You shout, mildly irritated. Your eyes widen and you inhale sharply when a tiny foot kicks you. You place a hand there and rub apologetically. Apparently she does not want you to yell. You roll your eyes and think that your daughter is certainly going to have Katsuki’s bad attitude.

“Baby, I heard you! I’m coming — just a second!” Katsuki snaps. You huff, cheeks puffing and burning when your temper flares a bit in response. You breathe deeply, resting both hands on your swollen stomach as the tiny feet continue to try and burst out of your skin like a scene from Alien.

Katsuki’s soft footsteps signal his approach and he rounds the corner into your living room leisurely. He comes to a stop next to your legs and your brows furrow when you gaze up at him with a slight pout. He arches one eyebrow in return and folds his arms over his chest, pointedly saying nothing.

“Kat, baby daddy, can you do the thing please? My back is killing me.”

Despite your discomfort you can’t help but appreciate his slender frame. His black sweats hang low on his hips and he’s fucking shirtless. He rolls his eyes when he catches you but wears a smug smirk nonetheless.

“Can your dramatic ass wait five minutes while I finish this round of my game? I’m obliterating Icy Hot.” His grin turns a bit feral and he cocks hip to one side, resting a hand there.

You protest accordingly and push your lower lip out.

“That’s too long! Can you do it later? Your baby needs you.” Over exaggerating your movements, you flop back against the couch and run your hands over your baby bump and stare up at him through your lashes. Katsuki snorts.

“It’s five minutes sweetheart. C’mon, Todoroki fucking sucks at this game,” Katsuki says with amusement, absently running a hand through his fluffy spikes of hair.

You press a hand to your forehead as if you might faint.

“You’re the reason I’m like this! The least you can do is help out your pregnant wife.”

“Oi!” He lets out a bark of laughter. “It takes two people to fuck and make a baby, I’m not the only guilty party. Why isn’t Eijirou gettin’ any fuckin’ blame for this huh? He was there too!”

Katsuki complains but it’s with considerable ease that he bends to your whim, shoving the ottoman closer and motioning for you to scoot up so he can get behind you on the couch.

“He’s not home right now,” you mutter childishly, heeding his instructions. The blonde crawls on to the cushions, maneuvering until he slots into the space between you and the backrest. He lets a thigh bracket you on each side and tugs you back into his chest, replying just as petulantly.

“Maybe you should’ve let Ei get you pregnant first then.”

“Oh god,” you start to whine. “Fuck baby, wanna see you swollen with my baby so bad. Blah blah — I’m Katsuki and I’m a giant fucking hypocrite,” you mock in a high pitched, horrific imitation of his voice.

To be fair he did whine those things to you and Eijirou in bed multiple times before you all finally agreed to it. Katsuki sputters behind you and pinches your thigh in retaliation.

“You’re such a fucking terror! I should make you wait until Eijirou gets home,” he growls, pathetic attempt at a threat making you giggle.

His palms are warm when he slips them under your shirt and places them on the underside of your belly, fingers spread. Katsuki delicately presses upwards and you deflate, melting into his chest. The immediate relief of pressure on your lower back makes you moan.

“Yeah, but we both know you won’t,” you reply smugly, hands coming to rest on his. He hums, electing not to respond with words because he knows he’s wrapped around your finger.

Katsuki can deny it all he pleases, but the man loves holding your belly. He’s struck with awe each time he’s lucky enough to feel his daughter kicking. He kisses the back of your head, relaxing into the couch for the time being.

You both turn your attention to the movie you had playing earlier and your eyelids start to flutter. Your chest is gooey and warm, you’re basically a fresh baked chocolate chip cookie in his arms.

Katsuki gets invested in one scene in particular, making snarky comments about the graphics and your daughter apparently recognizes her daddy’s voice, because suddenly she’s playing kick ball again.

Directly into Katsuki’s hands.

“Holy shit!” The blonde jolts, freezing temporarily before pressing the pads of his fingertips into the same spot, attempting to coax her into kicking him again. His heart thumps hard on your back, the heat from his chest bleeding through your shirt.

“She’s been really active today, but she must’ve heard her daddy talking. I think she likes your voice Kat.” You smile softly, adjusting your weight to get more comfortable. “I hope she does the same when Ei gets home, he was sad last time he missed it.” You tip your head back on Katsuki’s shoulder, twisting your neck to get a peak at his face.

“She’s fucking fiesty,” he says with no small amount of pride. She’ll respond to Ei, she loves him.” A tender smile softens his sharp features and your chest cracks with overflowing adoration. Surging forward you brush your lips over his jaw and Katsuki makes a quiet noise of surprise.

“I love you too,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. You hum contentedly and Katsuki goes back to holding up your belly.

A familiar vibration pattern breaks the atmosphere and buzzes near your leg. You pick up your phone, taking note that it’s a message from Eijirou and your face lights up.

“Ei messaged that he’s gonna be home soon,” you tell Katsuki eagerly. You can’t help the excitement fluttering in your belly when you think about getting to see the red head soon.

“Bout damn time, my arms are gonna fall off,” he teases, tickling the smooth skin of your belly with calloused thumbs and you laugh.

“Alright dickwad get out from behind me.” Katsuki pokes your ribs in retaliation, ripping a squeal from you and you wiggle in his grip. “You’re lucky I can’t get up quickly right now! I’d kick your ass, you shitty excuse for a bomb!”

Katsuki halts his movements and gasps dramatically in fake offense, squeezing his arms around your shoulders.

“Shitty excuse for a bomb??” He asks incredulously, accidentally chuckling at the end of his sentence. You nod once and he hugs you tight, planting several chaste kisses on your cheek. You laugh delightedly and turn your head briefly to snag his plush lips with your own.

The sound of your front door opening gets you to break apart, both turning your heads to see Eijirou waltz in. The smile he wears is as vibrant as the sun, all his razor edged teeth on display.

“Aww! What a sweet sight to come home too!” Eijirou chirps, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “So cute! All three of my babies snuggling on the couch together,” he coos and strides closer until he’s right by your side.

Eijirou’s dressed in street clothes. He’s got on dark gray sweats, a red tee and a white bandana tied around his head. Per usual, his arms may bust out of the shirt he’s wearing but it’s unbearably hot.

“Get lost on the way home red?” Katsuki taunts. The blonde lets go of your shoulders as you strain to get out of his hold. Katsuki gently pushes you to sit up straight with a supporting hand between your shoulder blades. Eijirou rolls his eyes playfully and shoves the ottoman out of the way to make space for himself between your legs.

“No, I’m actually home earlier than I thought I would be,” he replies, dropping to kneel in front of you. Katsuki takes the opportunity to slip out from behind you and sit next to you instead. You use a lot of willpower to keep a straight face when you speak next.

“Thank God, because apparently Katsuki isn’t strong enough to hold our 5lb baby without his arms falling off.”

You can make out the sound of Katsuki’s teeth grinding together as Eijirou’s bright laughter dances in the air. You’re poking the bear but it’s a breeze to rile up the blonde.

“Is that so?” Eijirou asks, eyes twinkling as he pretends to appear thoughtful when he turns to Katsuki.

“I can hold a fucking five pound baby!” Katsuki snarls harmlessly, yet he throws his hands up in the air. You choke on the swell of laughter that builds in your throat. Eijirou snickers and pushes the red riot T-shirt you’re wearing up to expose your baby bump.

“I know Kat, just teasing,” you placate, sending him your sweetest smile. Eijirou splays his hands on the sides of your belly and you tangle your fingers in his hair.

The blonde scowls but he can’t keep it up for long before he breaks, scoffing with a smile threatening to take over his lips.

“How’s she been today?” Eijirou questions you then, nuzzling his nose over the top of your belly.

“She’s a spitfire.” Katsuki’s chest puffs out a bit.

“So just like her daddy then?” Eijirou teases, brushing his lips over your belly in a sweet kiss. Katsuki’s smirks.

“Hell yeah she is.”

“She’s been moving a lot today Ei, Kat’s just happy she kicked the shit out of him earlier,” you explain, scratching the red head’s scalp. Eijirou hums, tracing the pattern of a heart into your stomach with his thumbs.

“Hi feisty girl, papa Ei is home,” he purrs. “I heard you were trying to kick box with your daddy today. You’re gonna be just like him,” he whispers, the affection effortlessly falling off his tongue. The red head’s eyes flutter closed, resting his forehead against you.

You jerk in surprise when Eijirou’s head suddenly shoots up, narrowly avoiding head butting the shit out of you. He stares at your belly with bright eyes. Your baby just kicked where his forehead had been. He looks up, gaze tracking between you and Katsuki with stars in his eyes as he vibrates with excitement.

“Did you feel that baby? Oh my god! Kat, she heard me!” The red head yells, almost tripping over his words. His cheeks are dusted with a pale pink and your own twinge from smiling so wide. You tug on the soft strands of his hair you have tangled between your fingers.

“Dammit Eijirou,” Katsuki chimes in, crossing his arms. “Stop being so-,” he pauses, looking for the right words. “So fucking cute!” You laugh when the blonde curls his lip, the man’s flushed to the tips of his cute pink ears. A sly expression immediately takes over Eijirou’s face.

He slips your shirt back down and you free his hair from your grip. You meet him halfway when he leans up to give you a chaste kiss.

The red head shuffles on his knees until he’s between Katsuki’s thighs. He leans in, locking his arms around the blonde’s waist and wiggling his eyebrows up at him. Katsuki’s eyes narrow but he places his elbows on Eijirou’s shoulders.

Your toes curl into the plush rug below when the red head smoothes his hands up and down Katsuki’s sides, a shiver wracking through the blonde before Eijirou squishes his face into the others’s chest and hugs him tight.

“Eijirou.” The name spills out of Katsuki breathlessly.

“You’re so sweet Katsuki. I think you’re cute too,” he says, words muffled by a bare chest. Heat crawls up your neck when the blonde tugs Eijirou close and mumbles “I love you,” under his breath. Seeing them like this sets your nerves alight, even with something as simple as hugging.

The moment is picturesque until a pang of hunger rolls around inside you. Placing a hand on the underside of your belly, you worry at your bottom lip. You don’t want to break up the tender scene, but it seems your daughter is hungry.

“I hate to burst the bubble, but our daughter is starving,” you say gently, grinning when they part. Eijirou kisses Katsuki sweetly, making a loud smooching sound when he pulls away. Katsuki makes a disgusted noise and pushes playfully at the red head’s shoulder when they both rise from their spots. “Will you make something Kat?” You ask hopefully.

“I swear you and Eijirou are like bottomless fucking pits,” he grumbles, turning and padding to the kitchen.

He’s not fooling anyone, you all know he loves cooking for you. Especially now that your daughter is almost here. He expresses his love through his food and you all reap the rewards.

You share a smile with Eijirou and the large man flops down onto the couch, trying not to jostle you.

“Thanks Kat!” You call at his retreating back and he throws a hand up over his shoulder in response.

“Sooo, can I hold your belly now?” Eijirou asks impatiently. He doesn’t wait for you answer, maneuvering until he’s lying on the armrest, legs splayed open wide for you.

“You don’t have to ask me twice. She definitely has been missing her papa.” You grab your discarded blanket from the couch, sliding back into his embrace. You pull your blanket up to your chest, covering you both and Eijirou teases his fingers underneath your shirt.

“I love your shirt, pretty girl,” he whispers sweet like honey in your ear, gingerly touch his lips to your throat. The combination sends a warm tingle down your spine. He yanks a tiny shocked moan from you when he bites your shoulder and lifts your belly simultaneously.

“Jesus Eijirou,” you breathe, weaving your fingers together. The simmering warmth pooling in your belly is becoming difficult to ignore. “Are you trying to fuck me on the couch?” You shift back and a half hard cock greets you. Fuck, you’d be a damn liar if you said that didn’t turn you on. His light exhale tickles your neck.

“Maybe,” he says coyly, hitching his hips upwards to rub his cock over your lower back. You pinch his thigh and he groans, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “I can’t help it,” Eijirou whines, continuing to lift your belly. “You’re so sweet and so warm like this, I want you.”

“After we eat Ei, I promise. Kat will be up for it,” you murmur, trailing your fingers over his forearm. Eijirou sighs but reluctantly he agrees.

After you ate, it took no time at all for the blonde to usher you and Eijirou into the bedroom.

Since then you’ve been stripped bare, elbows supporting your weight on the short wooden headboard behind you. They ache a bit where the sharp edge digs into the inner joint of it.

Katsuki’s head is caged between your thighs, knees sinking into the memory foam mattress below. His scratchy stubble tickles your skin while he buries his face in your pussy, head shifting from side to side.

You’ve opted to sit reverse cowgirl on his face so you’re privy to the front row view of Eijirou swallowing down Katsuki’s cock like he’s starving.

“Fffuck Kat,” you whine, rolling your hips and gliding your pussy over his plush lips. Katsuki moans, snaking his arms around your thighs and yanking you further down so he can dip the tip of his tongue inside you.

Your head tilts towards the ceiling, eyes fluttering and fingers curling into fists as Kastuki pushes his tongue to your clit, swirling it restlessly. The background is filled with the lewd schlick noise of Eijirou sucking cock.

Katsuki moves his lips from side to side over your clit before once again licking firm strokes and your head snaps back up with a gasp.

You’re starting to squirm, heat pooling in your cheeks as he works you closer to the edge. A prickle of warmth pulses through your pelvis when you lock eyes with Eijirou.

No man should look so pretty with a dick in their mouth. His cheeks are candy apple red and his lips are stretched tight around Katsuki. He seems quite comfortable, snugly fit between the blonde’s thighs and meeting Katsuki thrust for shallow thrust while the blonde leisurely fucks his mouth.

Eijirou sends a wink your way and you’re gawking at him when Katsuki sucks harshly on your clit, wrenching your attention back to his mouth. A let out a yelp and your thighs twitch when he does it once more, demanding your focus stay on him.

Try as you might you’re torn between Katsuki’s warm tongue working you over and the indecent sight of Eijirou.

You’re impatient and desperate to change positions before someone cums too quickly and so you plead for the attention of the man underneath you.

“Katsuki,” you moan, fingers circling his wrists. “Wanna switch baby, please.” He drags his teeth delicately over your clit and your breath stutters in your chest. Katsuki unwinds himself from your legs, pushing against your ass instead of tugging on you and you lift your hips from his face.

Eijirou pulls off with a pop, Katsuki’s thick cock slapping against his lower belly. The red head sits up on his knees, gripping the base of his own neglected desire and pushes back the messy strands of hair that had fallen into his eyes.

Katsuki slips out from under you, sitting between the two of you so you’re able to sit comfortably on your calves.

“Whaddaya want pretty girl? Ei and I will give you whatever you need,” Katsuki purrs, half a smirk tugging at his lips. The red head makes a noise of agreement and waits patiently for your answer. A flush creeps up your neck under the weight of their gaze and you absentmindedly rest a hand on your belly.

“I think I want Ei to position us however he wants. Ya know, since he’s been trying to get us in bed ever since he got home.” You grin playfully at Eijirou when he makes a noise of protest, a pink blush dusting over his cheekbones. Katsuki snickers nearby.

“Oh,” Eijirou breathes, grinning sheepishly and rubbing a hand over his forearm. “Well, I mean — yeah. Yes, totally I can do that.”

Katsuki snorts, waving a vague hand in front of himself when Eijirou takes too long to respond.

“Well? You goin’ to fuckin’ move us around or not?” Katsuki asks rudely. Eijirou ignores him, rolling his jaw a couple times before biting into his bottom lip. You punch Katsuki in the shoulder and give him a pointed look but he just rolls his eyes.

“Okay baby, c’mere please,” he requests warmly, reaching a hand out to you. You comply, gripping his fingers as he helps you shuffle forward on your knees. Once you get to him, he helps you twist until your back faces the edge of the bed.

He holds both hands, slowly reclining you until you’re flat on your back and your head dangles off the edge of the mattress. Your heart rate spikes when you’re slightly suffocated by your baby bump, but it’s comfortable enough for what you’re sure Eijirou has in mind.

“Okay Katsuki, go stand near her head. I want watch you fuck her throat while I’m inside her,” he commands shyly, flush traveling down his chest as he traps the tip of his tongue between his teeth. He takes his place between your spread thighs. Katsuki starts to heft himself off the bed, closing the distance between you with a few steps.

“Didn’t feel like gettin’ your ass torn up today Eijirou?” Katsuki’s grins with his teeth, cockiness seeping from him.

“Shut up,” Eijirou mumbles, helping you bend your knees and plant your feet. You try to stifle your laughter with a hand over your mouth but it spills out of you despite your best effort.

To be fair, Eijirou does melt into a drooling fucked out mess in the sheets every time he bottoms for the other man.

Katsuki comes to a standstill just in front of your head, reaching down to cradle the back of your skull and force you to look up at him. His flushed cock grazes your cheek and you suck your bottom lip behind your teeth when you finally make eye contact.

“You okay with this sweetheart?” Katsuki’s gaze is intense, the thumb of his free hand swiping over your brow bone. Your throat clicks when you swallow and you nod, fighting the urge to shift your head and kiss his shaft.

“I’ll be fine Kat, if it’s too much I’ll tap your thigh twice.” You reach backwards and secure your arms around the backs of his legs for emphasis.

“So fuckin’ pretty and smart baby girl,” Katsuki coos, voice a rumble in his throat and his praise makes your blood sing. He grips the base of his cock and shifts forward to rub his head over your lips. Your tongue darts out involuntarily to taste him and a salty tang bursts across your taste buds.

“Ei!” You gasp, startling when the red head’s thumb presses into your swollen clit, circling it slowly. You start to squirm and sink your nails into Katsuki’s thighs as your eyes squeeze shut. “C’mon Ei, stop teasing and fuck me.” Eijirou giggles.

“Okay okay. You’re so needy tonight, I love it,” Eijirou gushes. The blunt head of his cock pokes at your clit before sliding down, a steady pressure against your lips before he pushes inside. You cry out sharply, hanging onto Katsuki for dear life while Eijirou’s thick cock stretches you to the max.

“Fuck yeah, that’s it. That tight little pussy loves Eijirou, doesn’t she?” Katsuki says breathlessly, moaning softly as he strokes his cock. “He’s so big, isn’t he baby? Feels good huh?”

You can only nod, jaw going slack and eyes rolling back when Eijirou bottoms out with a choked off moan. Pleasure blisters through you when he draws his hips back and thrusts forward roughly.

“Oh my god. You’re a dream baby,” Eijirou whines, settling one hand on your knee and the other on your baby bump. Your vision is obscured by Katsuki’s thighs but Eijirou’s praise burns in your brain.

“Jesus Christ,” Katsuki snarls, tapping your cheek twice. “Open up for me princess.” Your lips part obediently and Katsuki braces a knee of the bed, the other leg standing firm. His groin tightens in anticipation at the sight of you flushed and pliant.

He squeezes one of your tits and tilts his hips down to guide his cock inside and he glides smoothly along your soft pallet. You close your lips and suck tentatively until he jerks forward and smacks the back of your throat, breath catching in his chest.

Eijirou starts to pick up the pace, the obscenity in front of him spurring on his own desire and he hits your g-spot with scary precision. Your resulting moan is muffled by the cock in your mouth as Katsuki fucks your throat and Eijirou begins babbling encouragingly.

“Oh — shit, right there yeah baby? Feels too good, I can’t believe how tight you are. You’re gorgeous like this sweetheart, you love when I tell you how pretty you are don’t you?”

His voice is fuzzy to your ears, the prominent ache in your jaw coming to the forefront. Katsuki’s paying attention, however and taunts him even if the sweet words make his cock twitch.

“God Ei, you just can’t stop yappin’ can you?”

Eijirou whines pitifully, rolling his hips a bit more leisurely to savor the pleasure.

“I can’t help it.”

“Fuck — I’m, it’s gonna make me cum. You want me to cum for you princess?” Katsuki pulls his cock free and you gulp down air, coughing and sputtering briefly.

“Yeah, yeah. Kat c’mon,” you croak, fingers tingling as you bring them up to fist the blanket below you. Eijirou’s moving at a snail’s pace now, stilling inside you to watch the show.

Katsuki runs with it, hooking his thumb along the teeth of your bottom jaw and prying it open. His cock is shoved to the back of your throat and past the unforgiving ring of muscle there. The sensation makes your throat tickle with the urge to cough.

He stays in place long enough for your pulse to thunder before exhaling shakily and dragging himself out of your mouth. He jerks his cock until he’s cumming with a cry and streaking your chest and belly with his release.

It’s still for a moment once he relaxes. The air is warm from all the movement and the only sounds are of the three of you catching your breath before Eijirou laughs incredulously.

“That was hot.” Eijirou is beaming as he slides his still completely stiff cock from your pussy and you protest half heartedly, the other two snickering. Katsuki locks eyes with you, his cheeks rose petal pink and sweat trails down his temple.

“You good?”

You nod as Eijirou grips your ankles and pulls you bodily onto the bed, your neck tingling when the blood rushes from your head.

“More than good. I do want to switch positions though, the baby is suffocating me like this,” you joke. Eijirou pats your thighs encouragingly and smiles vibrantly.

“Sure thing! You want Kat to hold you baby?”

“Please.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes playfully and shimmies up the bed to the headboard. He pauses near Eijirou, planting a kiss to his lips and turning to settle in his new place. Katsuki tilts his head and smirks coyly at you.

“Move your ass pillow princess.” He bends his knees and digs his heels into the mattress. You ignore Katsuki for the moment and take Eijirou’s offered hand. He helps you rise to your knees and shuffle until you can twist and recline against Katsuki’s chest.

He’s covered in sweat, but he’s so warm and a sense of comfort spreads through your limbs. You glance down at yourself and notice you’re still covered in Katsuki’s cum, nose scrunching in disgust but not bothering to wipe it away yet.

Katsuki runs his hands up and down your upper arms and tenderly wraps them around your shoulders, resting his temple on yours. You brace your hands on his knees and then Eijirou is there taking up your attention.

He inches forward and sits on his calves, snugly fitting between your thighs and he lifts his eyebrows in question. You hum softly and encourage him forward with a tug to his wrist.

He pushes at the delicate skin over your inner thighs to coax you open for him. You do so without hesitation and instantly Eijirou’s steadying himself and slipping back into you with a smooth glide.

“Eijirou,” you moan between your teeth, head tipping backwards onto Katsuki’s shoulder. You clench around him and he whimpers, pitching forward and resting his hands on your belly. Katsuki leers from behind you, muttering like the devil on your shoulder.

“Thought you were big and strong Ei. You can make her little pussy cum can’t you, red riot?”

Eijirou’s brows knit together and he nods vigorously, picking up a steady rhythm that you can feel in your toes. You bite the tip of your tongue and dig your nails into Katsuki’s knees.

“Y — Yeah, I’ll make her feel so good, I’ll make her cum Katsuki.”

Katsuki grins wolfishly.

“Good boy Eijirou.”

Your husband wears a dumbstruck expression, cherry red eyes falling shut and breathy moans mixing with yours as he snaps his hips briskly.

“E-Eijirou! Just like that, please don’t stop, I’m gonna cum!”

He obeys and the volume of your pleas rise and your voice cracks when Eijirou’s movements become the slightest bit harsher. The red head splays his large palms even wider over your belly and uses the angle to his advantage, pressing upwards with each thrust.

Katsuki squeezes your shoulders and whispers sweet nothings in your ear, nosing at your cheek while your climax swells rapidly behind your belly button.

“Doing so well baby, you take him like a fuckin’ champ,” Katsuki says huskily. “Looks like Ei’s gonna fuck another baby into you, isn’t that right?”

Eijirou absently replies with a whiny mhmm, eyes glued to where his cock disappears inside you. You stare at Eijirou’s flushed face, his lids heavy and jaw hanging open in concentration and then the knot in your pelvis is unraveling.

You inhale sharply, thighs tensing and your own mouth opens in a silent scream as your pussy flutters before clenching tightly on the cock splitting you open.

Eijirou groans, placing his forehead on yours and works you through it like he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to.

After a few brain melting seconds your muscles loosen, a low moan creeping its way out of your throat.

“Fuck baby,” Eijirou pants, cock twitching. “Love it when you cum on my cock like that, I’m not gonna last much longer.”

“Give it to me Ei, I’ve got you baby.”

With that, and a few filthy words from Katsuki, Eijirou is shoving his dick all the way inside you to the root. The curly black hair at his base brushes your clit and he’s cumming.

He gasps your name, hands shifting to white knuckle your shoulders as you frame his face with your palms. His cock kicks inside you a few times before he’s melting onto you, listening to your whispered words of praise as his chest heaves.

You all stay still for a brief moment as the post sex haze falls over you and Eijirou decides then to gingerly slip out of your pussy, shifting to lay down beside you like a starfish instead.

There’s a gentle pressure on your back and you lean forward so Katsuki can slide out from behind you. You take his place, pillows supporting your lower back and feeling icky from all the cum on you and inside you.

“Someone please get me a towel.”

Eijirou laughs but Katsuki just hands you a a discarded T-shirt, nose scrunching up.

“Here.”

You take it gratefully, wiping off the drying cum from your belly and handing it to Eijirou. He helps clean any place you can’t reach before balling it up and tossing it like a basketball into the dirty laundry basket. He misses. Katsuki glares at him and points in that direction, lip curling.

“You’re picking that shit up.”

You snicker and Eijirou grins good-naturedly, teasing the blonde until Katsuki’s teeth are grinding together.

Eventually you’re able to convince Katsuki to cook you both more food. He complains about it vehemently but ultimately pulls shorts on and stomps out of the room and to the kitchen.

You smile with amusement and gaze softly at Eijirou as he tugs on old sweats.

“Ya know he’s gonna blow a hole in the wall if you keep messing with him,” you say, awkwardly climbing off the bed and accepting the shorts and shirt Eijirou places in your hands.

“He just makes it too easy to rile him up.”

You can’t help but agree with that, grinning when Eijirou laces your fingers together and leads you to the kitchen.

The three of you relax together for the rest of the evening, both men taking turns reading to your baby and fawning over your belly.

You’re on your toes with anticipation to see how they behave when she’s here. You’re certain they’ll be amazing fathers.

Then, in a couple years, you’ll let Eijirou get you pregnant. You smile softly to yourself, because you’re one hundred percent sure your back will ache carrying his giant baby.

[imicrowavedicecream]

[ID: Fanart of Till from Alien Stage over a white background with pink outlined hearts. He is drawn bust-up in the center of the photo and facing the camera. He is wearing his grey shirt and his hair is down. He is sweating and blushing with a frustrated expression. Four chibi icons of Ivan and Mizi surround his head, two on each side. Each icon is smiling brightly and blushing. The top of the drawing has the text "men be like 'im fighting demons'" and the bottom has the text "but the demons are just bisexuality", referencing a joke quote. End ID]

I fucked up the ivantill drawing DRAMATICALLY so y'all can have the zestiest drawing I've ever made instead (IVANTILL IS COMING I JUST NEED TO REDO IT)

[amandagardendee]

Confession Booth

I’m a whore for priests. I wanna bang John Ward from Faith so bad. Anyways, uhh, DO NOT READ if you’re not into priests, places of worship, mpreg, birth, etc.

Summary: a heavily pregnant priest gives birth in a confession stand. Enjoy.

A sinner. Matthew was a sinner. He had forgotten how it happened, but he had this huge belly to remind him it DID happen. He kept it on the down low: kept insisting it was just weight gain so no one would find it suspicious. That was until today.

Of course he didn’t see a doctor about it. Of course he didn’t know his due date. But he knew he needed to get out of there when he started having contractions during a sermon. The feeling of his stomach tightening was almost alien like. His words were cut off with a choked back groan as he gripped the stand, his knuckles going white. “Hoo…” he breathed softly, glancing down at his huge stomach, hidden beneath large robes. He ended the sermon early as he ran off as fast as he could (more like waddled). Contractions were coming faster and so was this baby.

“Hnngh! Gh!” He leaned against the door of a confession stand and groaned as a contraction ripped through him. As quickly as he could he got inside. “Oh, Lord… please— AGH!” He let out a yelp and flung his head back as fluids gushed out of his asshole, staining his clothes. Shit, was that his water?!

“Ohhh!” He fell back into the seat of the confessional, not bothering to hold back his moans anymore as he felt the baby’s head sitting in his rectum. Desperate, he undid his belt and black pants and pulled them down, spreading his legs as he felt more juices coming out. He heaved and pulled up his shirt, looking at his pulsing belly. Another contraction hit and he felt the urge to push.

“Hooooohh…” He moaned as he pushed down, feeling the baby move further into his ass. Desperate, he took out the cross necklace he wore around his neck and gripped it tightly in his fist. He situated himself onto his knees, cramped between the door and the chair as he clasped his hands together and looked up. “Oh, God, please- NGGHHN! I can’t- ohh…” He began to pray in broken words as he grunted and continued to push, spreading his legs farther apart on the ground. “My Lord- AH! S-Save me… Oh-“ He gripped the necklace tighter again as he felt his asshole widening to let the baby come out. He whined softly as he took a hand down to his ass and spread his cheeks, allowing the baby to move out easier.

“Oh, Jesus- HNNGGHH!” He gritted his teeth and bore down again, his tight asshole spreading more as he moved his other hand down to rub his belly, the beads of the neckless rubbing against his skin and the cold metal of the cross making him shudder. He panted as his eyes, still raises to heaven, began to water with the pain. His shaking fingers reached his asshole, where they could feel the head of the baby trying to make its way through.

“Please, Lord- Ple-“ He was cut off as another contraction tore through him, causing him to drop his cross as he flung his head back and loudly groan, both hands pulling apart his asscheeks as the baby spread him further apart. “Ohhh! Oh, God- Oh, God— No- please-“ He whined as he took off his robes and held them under his birthing asshole. He folded his arms over the chair of the confession stand and laid his head into them, his groans muffled as he rocked his hips side to side to help ease the pain in them.

He let out another low groan as he pushed, trying to spread his legs further apart but his pants around his ankles making him unable too. “Lord- Ah! Lord above, my God- I have sinn-NNGHH!” He bore down again, gripping the waistband of his pants as he felt the baby near crowning.

“Please- Fuck- It’s coming—“ He situated himself again and bore down, sweat pouring down his face as the baby began to crown. There was a pop than a gush of fluids that stained his robes as he finally crowned.

“Oh!” He yelped, feeling the head with his shakey hands. He whined soflty and muttered a soft prayer. “Lord- Lord, my God, forgive me- Nghh! For- using your house of worship for- GHH! s-such a sinful deed. Forgive- meee- Ohhhh!” He bore down again, the shoulders lodged against his asshole.

Panting and trembling, he desperately reached for his cross again that had fallen to the floor. But before he could reach it, a scream tore through his throat as his hands reached the babies head as the shoulders slipped out, along with the rest of the baby.

The poor priest gasped in relief as he caught the baby, wrapping her in the robes that were stained with his bodily fluids. He slumped against the door of the stand, panting as he looked at his pale, bloody, wailing baby girl and questioning everything in his life. Was this all he really got?

[50cal-fullauto-astarion]

SUCROSE

Sugar Daddy!Older!König x Organic Chemist!Civ!FReader [NSFW, 4.3k]

You're an organic chemist that sugar babies for a laugh, because your days are dull and long. König is an old, battered soldier of fortune that has been sugaring you with an intensity bordering on religion. Neither of you are going to say the quiet part out loud.

CW: unprotected vaginal sex, doggy style, descriptions of nuclear annihilation, descriptions of the opioid crisis, criminally emotionally constipated adults. Barely edited.

König’s place is Spartan. Most things about him are. But he tells you to do whatever you want, you've got his black card if you want anything, and you raise a brow in question.

“Anything, huh?”

He gives you a dry look. “Anything. Literally, I do not give a shit.”

Almost sounds like a dare.

You don't make yourself too-too at home. This thing is still new—the arrangement, the dynamic, the thrill. You know better that it could burn out at any second and leave you all the way hanging. Not a worry, because you are in charge of yourself, and this is only for fun. 

You've been too abrasive for too long to have faith in the idea that others will look out for you. That's always been your duty to yourself. It's sacred. It's safety. 

But he breathes you deep, wanting you in a way that feels like need. 

He likes it when you just come over to his place, because you don't invite him to yours. He likes it when you don't wear anything fancy in particular. He likes it when you put on his boxers and his t-shirt and crash on the bed with him. 

“Bad work day?” he asks, gaiter pulled up over his nose, hiding his face while some bullshit plays on the TV and his fingers rub tenderly behind your ear. 

“Hm.” It's a huff of a laugh. You stay resting on his chest. Your fingertips have only just slipped under the waistband of his sweats, resting on the small paunch at the bottom of his belly. “Didn't want you getting too comfortable alone.”

“Never been,” he laughs in return, a low and rough haa. “The sentiment is appreciated.”

You feel bad for trying to make the joke. You've never been comfortable alone, either. “It's just something you learn to live around,” you further, hoping like hell he understands, because you lack the words otherwise. 

“Yeah,” he hums, his arm tightening where it wraps around you, because he does. “Yeah.”

There are the quiet nights like those, when he just likes having you pulled tight to his body, running your hand over his stomach, ignoring the litany of scars—surgical, and violent, and otherwise—marring his hide. 

Then there are nights where he's a nightmare, and it is a riot to play with him. 

+

There's no preamble, only action. He sends you money for dinner, and the moment you're done, you're asked over to his place. 

“Do you want me to pick anything up for you? To eat,” you clarify, standing on the curb outside of the first restaurant he ever took you to—it's become a regular in your rotation. You're still in your work clothes. You don't even feel particularly human, just functional. 

Fuck's sake, you didn't even expect him to call tonight. 

“No,” he says, his voice tense, even on the phone, “just you. Now.”

You're barely able to knock on the door before he's snapping it open, gaiter pulled up, wearing Dickies and a fleece. 

“You g—?” You don't even get to finish asking, body in flight.

You yelp in surprise as he snatches an arm around your waist, the other sliding up your sensible, frumpy skirt, curling under your thigh. 

He picks you up like you weigh nothing, and your stomach flips at the bizarre, alien sensation. You've never been small. Delicate. Petite—what a vile word, an ideal adored by many, one that you've never embodied, and never could. There is no amount of plastic surgery or product that will ever make you desirably little. A stupid and furious bead burns down into your sternum, one that turns its face from all the boys and men that moaned for you, buried balls-deep in your tight cunt, only to spin a tight 180° and bitch that they wanted a woman they could toss around, manhandle, feel powerful for moving. 

They would fuck you, and want you, but only at the demand of curiosity, lust, novelty. Who would claim you. Who would ache for you. 

König pulls you onto his hip, gripping your ass cheek tight in one hand, and carries you to the bed.

“On all fours,” he growls, turning and swallowing hard, fishing out his wallet, and as an afterthought catches up with him, he adds, “please.”

Your heart is racing from the way he'd bodily executed his decision with you. Your brain is shocked into a standby state, working on intuition and instinct. You arrange yourself on hands and knees, ass up in the air, and pull your panties down, hobbling your knees. At least those kinda cute, and you have the thigh high hose on, sheer and black with lines down the back. 

You thank every fucking deity you know that you hadn't done your laundry and had clean long-johns to wear under baggy jeans today. 

He drops things in front of your face. Papers.

“What,” you grunt, not a question, a complete incomprehension. 

“Read those.” As if that wasn't clear. He hooks his hands under your hips, making you grab for the papers when he drags you to the edge of the bed. There's popping and a grunt as he gets on his knees behind you, and you barely tighten up your throat enough to catch the bark that wants to escape. 

“Fuck—don't!” you snap, frenzied, but he licks a hot, wet stripe from your clit to your asshole, about ready to bury his face. 

His fingers keep your ass spread open and they tense with frustration when he snipes back, “Vas? What the fuck could you—”

“Just fuck me, I'm already good.” You hear another sound of frustration out of him, something that feels like don't be dumb, since you both know exactly how fucking big his cock is, even for your well-played cunt. “You already got me going,” you hiss, shifting your hips, hating that you feel you have to admit this at all, “you—when you picked me up. That did enough. Just—it's time to fuck.”

His hands relax, sliding to push your ugly skirt up over your hips. “Just from picking you up?” he asks, as if that should be impossible. 

“Yes, just from picking me up,” you shoot back, this close to hiding your face in your arms. “I don’t get picked up. I don’t get—moved. Whatever. It was new. That doesn’t happen to me, unless you’ve somehow missed how I’m fucking built.”

All the air goes out of the room as you pull the admission like pulling your own teeth. A crack in the careful facade. A hairline fracture. You are not perfectly unflappable. You are not wholly without insecurity. You are as weak and human as everyone else. 

What a strange, ugly feeling to allow passage through your chest; a slow, inky swimmer swooping around your lungs and stomach, turning everything it touches to ice. You’re supposed to be untouchable, aren’t you? You’ve gone years without that odd, festering jealousy rearing its head. You’re not sure why it does so now.

König just taps the papers again, his breathing strained and heavy, bending to kiss your neck, just below the spot behind your ear that makes your skin snap with static electricity. “Let me eat your pussy while you read those. Don’t like condoms. Don’t want to use them anymore,” he grunts, the teeth he presses into your neck making you realize that he’s pulled down his gaiter.

It’s a weird enough request that it resets your brain. It allows you to read, your head fogged with discordant lust and curiosity as he sinks back behind you, bathing your pussy in heavy, slow attention with his split tongue teasing your clit.

It’s paperwork. A clean result from a recent STI test, and the discharge paperwork from a vasectomy. For your high-geared mind, it has taken an embarrassingly long time to click. He doesn’t like condoms, and doesn’t want to use them. The papers are assurances to you. He’s clean. He won’t get you pregnant.

In the five percent of your brain that is not being used to process the complete annihilation of your soaked pussy with pleasure, there’s a floor-rolling bout of hysterical, giddy laughter that has taken up residence, darting through the fine links of your firing neurons. 

This is a romantic gesture. He is a frightening, stone-faced man, who is twin to you in strangeness, and this is outpouring of bizarre softness and startling understanding. Is there anyone else in the world that has fucked you, let alone exists, that would know the way you find comfort and security in medical results and discharge papers on official letterheads?

If there is, you’ve never met them, and you don’t think you will.

Between his moves—a filthy, slurping plunge into your cunt, figure eights around your swollen and throbbing clit with the halves of his tongue, and almost delicate, sucking kisses that puff your labia—you still find the energy and wherewithal to bust his balls, even as he’s making you so wet that it slicks your thighs, “Alright. So, how do you know I’m clean?” It is a sentence you can barely manage as your body shakes.

There comes a laugh, rumbling and serrated, as he nips your shaking thigh with his teeth, paired with a familiar clap on the ass like you’re a breeding mare prized not for progeny but sentiment and a fondness for your rotten, crank attitude. “You’re mean as a fucking snake, Schatzi, but I know you’re not mean enough to let me tongue-fuck you if you had something.”

You maybe should not laugh at such a succinct round-up of one of your most defining character flaws, but you are, and you grin sharply looking back over your shoulder at him as he rises. His hands—huge, warm, coarse, careful—slide over your hips to savor your shape.

“Further up the bed,” he coaches you, leaning forward just long enough to press a heavy kiss to your mouth, pushing his tongue past your lips so you can taste yourself mixed with his natural metallic tang. 

One of your hands comes to his jaw, pulling him back in when he tries to move away, for just one selfish moment more, swirling your tongues together, needful of his heat and his closeness and the feeling of your noses crushes together as clumsy as college freshmen set loose in a wide, free world.

“You don’t do fuck-all in half-measures,” you mutter, hand finally sliding away, your lids clicking open crisp. You love seeing the scars mutilating his mouth, the way that flush brightens the coppery tint of his skin. The silver in his hair seems brighter, and the gold of the wheat-colored strands giving the silver a home seems deeper, more molten. 

He is a beautiful man. He is a beautiful, beautiful man, and the look he gives you reads weakness.

What a rotten old soldier. What a battered old war dog. 

You don’t want to think about what it means if the weakness isn’t a figment of your imagination. If it is symptomatic of a larger trend; an oncoming crisis, a trend that sweeps and fells and swallows up entire communities, with a bent toward becoming endemic to the local culture, and almost impossible to kill forever after.

+

The opioid epidemic has always come in greater, and greater waves. 

The first in the nineties, off natural and semi-synthetic painkillers, a slow swell beginning with easier manufacturing, laxer laws, and gargantuan pharmaceutical conglomerates pushing-pushing-pushing the easy writing of prescriptions on countless doctors. Generational seeds buried in families, in communities—germinating at inhuman rates, weaving addiction into the DNA.

The second came with the second decade of the new millenia. A resurgence in heroin, when the world began to come down on doctors with fat Rx pads and quick-writing fingers. When you cannot find a fix legally, you will find it illegally, and it comes at much higher a cost. 

There were always more waves, and different ones, and quieter ones. There were always synthesizers, cookers, designers, manufacturers—legal and illegal alike. 

Fent, roxie, percs, bars. Heroin, krokodil, bath salts, flakka. Uppers. Downers. Barbiturates, benzos, phenobarbital. 

It all ties into dopamine, and the ancient, pointlessly leftover biological mechanic of addiction. The sizzling, bumpers-and-bells-and-bright-lights screech of a reward center well-fed. 

König is a beast of a man, and his brain is brutally hardwired for addiction. He's an alcoholic in on-off recovery, he's a medical req amphetamine junkie. He no longer chases adrenaline like most men chase tail, but he sprints after it in his tense, jerking dreams. 

He's just a dog, with wet sad eyes, and his heart chases after trucks that will never see him around blind turns. His surety that the next roaring beast coming around the switchback bend will finally love him back is the thing that is going to kill him. 

+

König can't spell for shit, and his grammar is a barely functional mess of punctuation and weird spacing, but he has a terrifying mind for numbers and nuclear engineering. He's told you before that it takes 10^-20 seconds for an atom to split to kickoff nuclear fission, the process that powers atomic bombs.

You're a doctor, and it didn't at all feel stupid to ask, “Fuck. How can you even comprehend how fast that is?”

You walked side-by-side with him in winter coats. He shrugged at the time, and said, “Hm. Alright, you're at the market. You're looking at apples, or arugula, or fish, or whatever the fuck. We don't know who hit the button, but the missile carrying the warhead is going twenty-four thousand K-P-H. Fifteen thousand miles per hour. You're in Berlin. As soon as the launch is registered, everyone starts launching.”

He stepped closer, elbow bumping yours. When he registered your hard swallow, he slid his arm around your neck and pulled you into his side. 

“So the bombs are launched,” you prompted him, tucked into his side. “When do I die?”

“You died ten minutes before World War III ended,” he hummed, pressing his nose into the spot before your ear, brushing his gaiter-covered lips over your cheek and ear lobe, “you were turned into pure carbon staining the ground, and you never knew there was a bomb.”

10^-20 seconds for the bomb to perfectly obliterate any and all existence of your entire life. Annihilation so utter, there would be no DNA leftover. 

Bombs, destruction, drugs, addiction.

Control. Control. Control.

König will never know that you passed through the eye of the needle in close to the same fucking unfathomable shard of a second, fighting tooth and nail to choose between launching off the bed, denying his low-simmering feelings, and black listing his entire existence in your memory—versus embracing the insane, helpless plummet, releasing your death grip on the demand of understanding and autopsy of everything unknown. 

Your hand loosens on that chain.

+

“Yeah, fuck it. Fuck me,” you say, recovering from the staggering out of body experience. 

He leaves you ass-up in the cold of his apartment, windows open, and returns with his laptop and his black card, throwing them down in front of you. His hands clap your skin as they land on your hips, anchoring him as he pulls himself into place behind you, stroking his cock needlessly because it can't possibly get any harder or fatter.

“Buy whatever you fucking want. You've got ten grand. You don't spend it, you don't cum,” he grunts in a hoarse voice, and that's every bit of warning you get before he plunges his cock in your soaked, swollen pussy, bucking and grunting as you spasm around him and try to scurry away out of instinct. His hips slam against your ass, hands dragging you back against him, and you feel and hear the noise ripping in his throat like the gut-growl start of a chainsaw.

There’s a wolverine in your throat—something, perhaps, that fought hard, and died even harder than that in another life—and it does not take kindly to being bossed, bucked, bitched. It bares its fangs through your mouth, goading you to turn your head, to catch König’s eyes and lock onto them like you’ve caught him in unkind crosshairs. 

“Do I still get to cum if I just make one big, fat buy?” you ask hoarsely, the silver of your teeth flashing between your lips like a threat, eyes wild and too-bright. “Maybe I buy you a decent fucking couch? A good dining table?”

That mauled mouth of his curls into a smirk, and his hand skates up your back—turning threat and  tenderness into a single entity—gripping the back of your neck firmly, but not cruelly, as he redirects you to the screen. 

“You could. Of course, you fucking could. I’m not a liar. But.” He bends low, snapping a sharp and sweet love bite against the skin of your neck, in a spot that your collars will barely hide. “That would be fucking boring. I don’t think you’re boring.”

The tone begs you to tell him he’s wrong in a challenge.

You laugh, backed into a clever corner, gripping the sides of the laptop, dragging it closer as he starts a slow, rolling rhythm, sliding his cock in and out of you. Just taking his sweet time, warming you up all over again, getting those stiff hips of his to unlock, too—more used to marching and storming, now, than fucking.

You start by faking him out as he stretches your wet, throbbing pussy with his grappling-to-relax rhythm, pulling up a Tiffany Co. hardware necklace selling for $4,100.00. Its greatest sins are that it is not only ugly, but, far worse, it is boring. 

“Schatzi,” he growls, fingers tightening on your hips, and, good fuck, it makes you laugh. That earns you the slam of his hips flush to your ass, stealing the air from your lungs, and his huge hand tightens in the back of your hair, bringing your eyes back up as your head swims and your stomach jumps.

“Got the hint,” you wheeze, clicking off the tab, trying to focus on anything but the size of him inside you, pounding you like a brutal metronome. His breathing is tight, and every stroke of his cock sails him straight across your g-spot. Makes your brain shimmer like the bath bombs and body lava you load your carts with. Makes your guts feel filled with poured platinum, same shade and shine as the teal sapphire pendant earrings you purchase.

The orgasm builds in your lower belly—a broiling heat, a ten-ton tightness, driving your pelvis down with its demanding weight—and König stays steady fucking you, relentless with his perfect, unerring rhythm. Somehow that makes it so much more difficult to withstand. 

The first time you had fucked, he had lasted so long you thought he wasn’t going to fucking cum at all, but, no. He was just beastly in bed, sweat pouring down his temples and chest, eyes smirking over his mask until you ripped the fucking thing down and kissed him. He’d tasted, wonderfully, of your pussy and pleasure.

The stamina of a maniac, and the patience he professes that his younger self could’ve never maintained.

At $8,370, your focus gives, and you almost collapse, elbows sliding out from under you. You bury your head in the blankets beneath you, smelling his cologne and the faint odor of his sleep sweat, and it turns your stomach into a cyclone. You’re kissing the razor’s edge of finishing, so close you feel it flooding your blood like the skull-crack cold of a fresh IV line of saline on a hot, sick stomach.

All at once, he stops, one hand heavy-spread across your lower back, the other tight around the shape of your hip.

“H-huh, f—fuck,” you moan, pathetic and brainless.

“You done?” he asks, breathing hard. He grunts like the grit of a stone mill when you nod your head, then shake it, body too confused to settle on an answer. “Think about it. You’re almost there. Tell me how much you have left to spend.”

You turn your head in the blankets, taking a sideways glance at the screen. It’s hard to tell. His hand slips lower, between your legs, cupping your pussy and applying pressure, though he doesn’t play with you. 

Simple math. You’re a doctor. This should not be difficult. But Sisyphus would have an easier time pushing his damned boulder up his hill than you are with basic subtraction.

“One—one-six-three-nil.”

“Mm. Mhm. Sixteen hundred. I’m almost done, want you to cum, too. Get creative.” His voice is hoarse, tight with restraint, and even in your stupor, you can tell he’s struggling as much as you are.

With a sluggish nod, painfully conscious of his cock sitting heavy and throbbing in your cunt, you pull yourself up on one shoulder, slumping as close to the laptop as you can manage. The next page you go to belongs to his bank, and his fingers knead into the small of your back as you one-handed type his account information (the gift of an obscene amount of trust, or the hallmark insanity of a man who simply does not have a spare fuck to give).

Takes ten seconds to transfer a solid two grand into your checking account, and König doesn’t even chuckle. 

He fucking moans. A weak, broken-legged sound that shakes his entire body so thoroughly it rings through yours like church bells.

His grip tightens, and he muscles you onto your back like an afterthought. Slops your legs back open and drops all his weight on top of you, burying his face against yours as he fucks right back into you. He’s done dicking around (you would laugh at the stupidity of your own thoughts, had your brain stem not been atomized by this exact man), hitting a nightmare rhythm of thrusting and grinding that rubs your clit, and just tosses what’s left of your mind in the damned incinerator.

The build is so fast and reckless—a nigh-on lethal vent of pressure that leaves you half-blind and shaking, finally allowed to sprint after what felt like a lifetime of restraint—that you’ve already started to cum, and your mind is only just now catching up with your body. König’s breath is furnace-hot, rolling over your skin like the lungs of a bellows press, your cunt spasming and clenching his throbbing cock wildly. 

When the world finally takes back control of your facilities—putting a fading, slow halt to your paint smear perception of reality—König is crushing you with his weight. His hands grip at the underside of your thighs, and he breathes into the hair behind your ear. “Will move, soon,” he assures you, but you shake your head. 

“Stay put. Your weight feels good,” you respond, chest beautifully crushing under his body, and it calms your heart with the comfort of pressure. 

Lazily, and without much thought, you graph out chemical sequences across his back. Prolactin, dopamine, oxytocin, endorphins, serotonin. All the good shit, overwhelming your blood stream.

+

You're the one to get up for water, calling him ‘old man’ in a snort that earns you a swat to the bare ass, and another gravel-grit laugh. He looks grateful for it all the same—that small measure of care and familiarity. 

Dog, dog, dog, your mind chants. He's just an old dog aching for a fleece bed and a kind hand. The stone in your stomach sinks heavier, and you turn your thoughts away from it. 

When you return, you collapse in the bed beside him after handing over the glass. He's propped himself against the headboard, legs splayed wide and lazy, the heaving of his chest from exertion shallowed by rest. His profile is harsh in the unfiltered light of his side table lamp, and the cold air blowing in through the cracked windows is a relief on your friction-chafed skin.

His skin is gold in this light, like his lightning-streaked hair. His form is sleek and powerful, even in repose. The bulk of him eats up half of the king-sized bed, dressed in barebones linens, and you think of tragedies. How perfectly-built demigods always came with a fatal flaw that became their death, and how nature couldn't figure out a way to give stronger hearts to massive creatures. 

Their bodies simply demanded too much fuel to keep alive for too long. They are powerful, undeniable, and gone so very quickly.

But looking at König, maybe god is too magnificent a term for him. You know he'd despise it. Bomb is a better fit. 

Yeah, no. That is the better fit. The type of man he is? One with his nature? He'd be dead before he even realized he'd detonated. And he'd kill as many people as he could with the blast radius. 

“You ever think about going back to school?” you ask in a fucked-out rasp, as your lips cut into a lopsided half-smile, and he laughs, smirking.

“I fuck you stupid, or…?” he teases, his teeth glinting in the light of the room, eyes pale and calm like cold water.

‘No,’ is the real answer, and it continues, ‘I have only just discovered the fear that comes after realization, and I have let myself pass through the keyhole to the other side. I have never seen this place, one where there is enough room for another person besides myself, and it frightens me. It could be filled, and it could be emptied, and I know that I do not have the resilience to live with that void.’

“Shit. I think you did,” is what you snort instead, pulling the sheets up over your hips. “I'm going to doze for a little while. Then, I'll call an Uber home.”

König says nothing, making an unsure noise of thought in his throat, but you know he won't pursue his offer, because you will turn it down, and he is fragile when it comes to rejection. 

Coward that you are, you allow the invitation to spend the night die in his chest, cemented by him leaving the bed shortly after to shower.

You are not ready to admit to even yourself that there is room for him. What else is there to do but run from it?

[luveline]

hi jade! i was wondering if you could do a zombie!au fic where r helps steve when he wakes up from a nightmare?

For a split second, Steve doesn’t know that you’re you, and he shoves you away hard. He scrambles away from you in the dark, kicking at your leg, your light sleep torn open as he shouts an unintelligible word and tumbles against the zipped tent door. 

“Steve, it’s me,” you say, voice scared and croaky with sleep. “It’s just me, it’s just me. Just us.” 

His breath is ragged. Your leg aches from the brunt of his entire body weight, your arm stings similarly. You can barely see him in the dark, his mouth a black hole, his eyes a strange shade of their usual brown as he sucks in harsh breath. You sit up with a groan. 

“Just me,” you say again, softer, “nobody else.” 

“Did I hurt you?” he asks. 

“It’s okay.” 

He swallows a lump. “Did I?”

“No. It’s alright. Come back over here, you didn't hurt me.” 

He looks at you like you’re an alien, but he shuffles back across the tent to sit by you again on the packed out mattress and your few sheets. When he’s close enough, you take the zipper on his hoodie and pull it down, away from his neck and open, before pushing the garment from his shoulders to bring out his arms. The rightmost has a bad scar from a worse infection running down the forearm, but besides that, he has a smooth expanse of skin for touching. You want to touch him. 

“I kicked you,” he says, “I’m sorry.” 

You hold him by the elbow, turned to him with your chin up. You want to get a good look at him. His bottom lip trembles. “Bad dream?” you ask gently. 

He presses his lips into a tight line. 

“I know they scare you, but it’s really okay, Steve, you’re okay.” Your voice has turned to butter, a silky whisper as you bring your hand to his cheek, and he crushes it between his face and his shoulder. “It’s okay.” 

“It’s okay,” he says finally, eyes squeezing shut. 

Fuck, baby, you think, pushing up onto your knees. “Gonna hug you,” you say, wrapping your arms around his head. 

He smells like that strange, subtle sweat that clings to his hair while he sleeps. No discernible odour, but the scent of perspiration. Maybe it’s just how he smells, or his pillow, his t-shirt? You bury your nose into his hair and attempt to rub the tension from between his shoulders.

“You smell nice,” you whisper, pressing a bunch of quick, loving kisses into his limp hair.  

“Did I hurt you a lot, when I–” He clears his throat. “I pushed you twice. I’m sorry.” 

“Baby, don’t be sorry, I don’t care.” 

“I didn’t mean to, I just thought it was you. They were– it was ripping my face off.” 

“That’s not gonna happen. Nothing’s gonna hurt you.” You close your eyes, let your face rest almost entirely in his hair. “I'm not gonna let that happen to you, I promise.” 

His breathing slows. His hands curl loosely in the front of your shirt. 

“Do you wanna lay back down? It’s still night, I think. It’s so cold.” 

Steve pulls away from you to look over your face. Without comment, he grabs his hoodie from around his waist to drape over your shoulders, sliding across toward his pillow, a hesitancy in his movements. “I think I’ll stay awake. Just for a bit. I don’t want to have the same dream.” 

“I’ll stay awake with you.” 

“No, you should sleep. It’ll make me feel better if I can…” 

He wants to watch you sleep. You wrap his hoodie around you tightly and slip back down onto your back on the portable mattress, your face to his thigh. You clasp his ankle in your hand. 

“You don’t wanna talk about it?” you ask. 

Steve encourages your face onto his thigh properly. Your neck aches, but you’ve no inclination to tell him as his hand cups your neck. “No. It was stupid. I woke you up. Scared you.” 

“No way. You don’t scare me.” 

He exhales. His thumb strokes your chin. “At least I get to wake up to you. From a nightmare to a straight up dream.” 

You hold his eyes. “Oooh, smooth.” 

He bends down to touch your nose to his. “I really don’t hurt you?” he asks again, whispering. 

“No, I promise.” 

You draw lazy half circles into his ankle and pretend to feel more tired than you do. Steve stays there for a while, bent over you without a sound. His hands are shaking. When sleep begins to weigh you down again, he noses a kiss behind your ear and sits up. You wonder what he’s thinking, listening to his breath. He doesn’t wake you again that night.

[mod-kyoko]

Hello! Hope you’re having a good day/night. Could I please request Nagito x gn reader that was helping take care of him during the whole despair disease outbreak, and whenever Nagito said ‘I hate you’ the reader would just respond with something along the lines of “Love you too, Komaeda.” Could be headcanons, oneshot, or whatever. Whichever you’d prefer.

Sorry if this sounds weird, I don’t usually make requests lol. Thanks in advance!!

taking care of despair diseased nagito

type: in killing game, hc format, established relationship

a/n: anon it's so crazy i was literally just playing chapter 3 of dra2 and was at the part when they get the disease

♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧

you noticed right away that something was wrong with nagito

every word that came out of his mouth was a lie

it was almost like he couldn't speak the truth at all

when hajime felt his forehead and noticed that nagito was burning up, you knew that was the reason behind his behavior

monokuma popped up soon after, confirming that nagito was indeed afflicted by the lying disease

still, you didn't understand why some disease would cause nagito to say things like nothing is real, everyone is fake, and everyone is out to get him

but it was impossible to reason with him, especially because not long after he passed out, crumpling to the floor

you lunged forward, grabbing onto him to soften his fall, and pulled him onto your lap

"mikan! we need to get him to the hospital!" you yelled, while everyone else stood by in shock

the nurse helped you carry nagito all the way to the hospital on the third island, where you laid him in a bed

"u- um, we need to get him out of his clothes and into a gown," mikan said

"i got it, go help ibuki and akane," you replied, so she left it to you

nagito regained consciousness while you were slipping his shirt over his head

"ah! what are you doing to me? ah, are you planning to abduct me and take me to your home planet?"

you would have laughed at the silliness of the question if he wasn't in such dire condition. instead, you replied patiently

"i'm not an alien, nagito" you reached for his pants to slide them down his legs, but he swats your hand away

"i don't... want..." he was struggling to finish his sentence without panting from the fever

"i know, i'm sorry. but i need to get you into a gown. would you rather have mikan do it?"

"yes, i would much prefer mikan do it," he rambled, staring at the wall

your heart fluttered a little bit, knowing he meant the opposite of what he said. but this wasn't the time to be flustered

after wrestling with your boyfriend a little bit, you finally got his pants off, and draped the gown around his shoulders

once you tied it, you let him lay back down on the bed, and he closed his eyes

at this point there wasn't anything else you can do, with no medic knowledge, so you decided to just comfort him through it

you reached out to pat his head, smoothing down his hair

he reacted weakly, shaking his head as if to shoo away your hand

"get your filthy hand off me," he snarled

by now you were starting to translate his words in your head

"go away (please stay)"

"stop touching me (don't stop)"

with one hand running through his hair, your other laced your fingers in his, watching as he shifted between a state of being awake and being unconscious

"i... hate you" he spat, beads of sweat collecting at his temple

"i love you too, nagito" you smiled, gently squeezing his hand

"i seriously... hate you... go away."

"i'm here, you're okay. i won't leave you."

"i don't want you here! go away!"

his eyes were watering, and you didn't know if he was crying because he was in pain or angry, so you reached out and wiped the tears away

"i want to be here, i won't leave you, i promise."

you could have sworn you felt him squeeze your hand back once before he slipped back into sleep

♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧

[halfcow-halfboy]

I can’t stop thinking about the Venom franchise so here’s more of my thoughts. Specifically on how Eddie looks and how it’s changed over the course of three movies (hint: it’s not that drastic)

So in the first movie (2018) Eddie wears pretty much the same grey hoodie and sweats for the entire movie. It’s just what he wears. He sweats through the first hoodie (or well he gets soaked when Venom drags him through the ocean but he also sweats a lot. This man has issues) and when I first watched it I honestly was waiting for when he’d take off his shirt right? Like every movie with a man in it. But no. That never happened. He just stayed looking, well, rather pathetic. He’s gross and he knows it. He’s a sad little man and I adore that for him.

Then the second movie rolls around (2021) and he still looks horrendous. But better. He’s no longer wearing that gross grey hoodie but he’s still no better. His life is more put together and he has an alien husband but other than that he’s not changed much and that’s awesome. Honestly I love the pathetic look they have going for him, I feel if it turned into some thirst trap movie it wouldn’t have done as well because while objectively Tom Hardy is hot, Eddie isn’t. (Well he is but not really at the same time) He’s a loser. We know this. Venom knows this. Anne knows this. He just some sad guy with an alien and some chickens (who ARE alive) getting back to the point, Eddie isn’t some supermodel in this movie and it’s nice that they’re not trying to make him that. It’s refreshing to get a superhero movie where the main guy is literally the most loser to have ever losered

And finally the most recent movie (2024) and Eddie is back to looking gross. He’s wearing the same San Francisco shirt (except for when he changes into the suit and looks so hot) but not only does he wear the same outfit for the entire movie he doesn’t have any fucking shoes. He’s somehow even lower than the first movie and he got dumped in that movie! Poor guy just needs to like shower and sleep for a week but he doesn’t get that cause the directors hate him. I feel so bad for Eddie but also it’s very on brand for him. I know this post is long and very all over the place it’s just been bugging me that not enough people appreciate how underwhelming Eddie Brock is. He’s not some hot, ripped guy who also has an alien, he’s a weird little dude who doesn’t seem to know what a shower is and also has an alien. And sure you could argue that his life is constantly falling apart in these movies but hey, my life is always falling apart and I still shower regularly. Semi regularly. Point is I shower. Thats really all this post is. Bragging that i shower (it’s not)

[maldaptivedreamer]

From Afar P. 1

You didn't know his name and you didn't care to. You were perfectly content to watch him from afar...Or were you?

contents: Errors and mistakes, too lazy to edit, probably not entirely accurate to alien universe, Bjorn is also not a major character in this part, kinda long

wc: 1.7k

a/n: First thing to address is the fact that I absolutely hated Bjorn. He pissed me off and SPOILER: I was entirely satisfied when he died. Now because he’s a fictional person, I CAN change him, therefore I will. Second thing is, I have never written creatively before, so if my writing is clunky I apologize.

Masterist Next Part

Sweat dripped from your brow as you drilled into the rock. Your goggles fogged with humidity and your mask only made it harder to breath. Your arms trembled with effort as the alarm signaled the end of your shift. Immediately, your arms sagged. Despite the pain, you continued to push forward towards the tunnel's exit, dragging the heavy drill behind you.

As you stepped out into the open air, you placed your drill on the ground and quickly removed the bulky gloves from your hands. They were shoved under your arm as you pulled your mask and goggles down. You briefly paused. Looking up to catch your breath, you found little reprieve. Jackson's atmosphere is dense and contaminated with humidity and pollution. Even outside of the tunnel, the air is only a fraction better than the air inside.

Taking shaking steps towards the desk to clock out, you silently lay the drill in a compartment, where it is promptly checked in. "Another twelve-hour shift, no drill damage," the attendant muttered, barely glancing up from his screen. You nodded wearily, not bothering to speak. Your throat too raw from the dust and fumes. The worker inside nodded to you and handed you your bag. You ignored them, snatching your bag from the counter.

As you shuffled towards the locker room, your legs felt like lead. The ache in your muscles had become a constant companion, a dull throb that never truly faded. You passed by other miners, their faces etched with the same exhaustion you felt deep in your bones. The locker room was a cacophony of slamming metal doors and muted conversations. You peeled off your sweat-soaked jumpsuit, wincing as the fabric clung to your skin. You change into a loose t-shirt and jeans. Boots shoved back onto your throbbing feet.

You uncaringly threw your goggles and mask into your locker, jumpsuit shoved into your bag. Slamming the door closed, you swing the bag around your shoulder. The sweat built up on your shirt quickly, soaking the bag as it pressed into you back and dug into your stiff shoulders. Your sweaty hands are wiped along your stained jeans.

You walked home as fast as your body allowed, but the trip home is long. As you weave through the crowd, paying no attention to those around you, you allow yourself to think. Deftly maneuvering between each person, you become lost in your own world.

The cycle never ends. Go home, go to work, go back home, and then back to work. Endless monotony. You exert all your energy for what? For nothing. Nothing to strive towards. Just a replaceable cog in their machine, destined to spend your whole life on this planet until you die. They have no regard for you, you’re just another expendable worker. As this bitter and depressing thought crossed your mind, you briefly faltered in your steps. All you do is work and work, you deserve to relax. To just sit and be.

You don't bother going back home to wash off the stink of a long work day. You know that if you go back home, it'll likely end with you not leaving. Instead, you make your way to the northern quarry. It had been completely drained and now acts as a spot for younger people to drink and hang out at.

The once bustling quarry now stands as a barren wasteland, its towering walls and deep pits looking more intimidating due to the dark sky. Graffiti covers its jagged surfaces, a mix of colorful art and desperate messages scrawled in quick strokes. The air around the quarry is thick with the stench of alcohol, cigarettes, and sweat. The faint aroma of weed lingers in the air, masked by the stronger scent of chemicals and decay. Despite the unpleasant smells, the quarry is usually alive with chatter and laughter.

You’d never been there before, only passing by, socializing and relaxing not having been high on your priority list. However, with this goal in mind, you determinedly walked towards your destination.

You tilted your head while chewing your lip raw, watching as he laughed. He leans in closer to his friends, flashing a handsome smile. Releasing your lip, you blow air from your nose and take a sip of the beer in your hands, grimacing at the taste.

Silently watching the people around you, you couldn’t help but steal glances at the pretty boy across the quarry. You’d noticed him before. Just in passing, but his pretty face hadn’t left your mind since. He stood out in the dim light of the quarry, his sharp jawline and tousled hair making him appear almost ethereal. His loose shirt waves in the humid wind. His laugh is infectious and loud, his eyes sparkling in the flickering light from nearby bonfires.

You watch as he focuses his blue eyes on a girl with a shaved head, sipping on his drink as she spoke. You chewed on your bottom lip as he licked the droplet of liquid that escaped his mouth. The pretty boy’s long fingers loosely wrapped around the neck of a beer bottle.

An amused voice cuts through your silent admiration, “You’re drooling.” You turn to see a girl with curly hair grinning at you. She brushes a stray strand away from her face and raises her eyebrows as she chuckles. You glance back at the attractive boy before turning fully towards the girl. You shrug, “Can you blame me? He’s hot and fun to look at.”

She nods towards him, "Are you gonna’ to go talk to him?" Her tone is playful and her brown eyes twinkle with humor.

You scoffed under your breath and responded firmly, “Absolutely not.” She looks at you with a puzzled expression as you give her a wry smile. Her own smile falters as she asks, "Why not? Are you embarrassed? I could introduce you to him if you'd like."

You emphatically shake your head, “Hah no. No thanks. I refer to him as pretty boy cause I don’t know his name. I do not want to know his name.  I haven’t talked to him because I don’t want to know if he’s an asshole. Like I said he’s fun to look at and I’d hate for him to ruin his pretty face with a shitty personality. It would also be too much work to find another hot person to quietly obsess over, so I’m good thanks.” You end your small rant with another wry smile and a drink. You return to observing the people around you as you await her response.

For a brief moment, there is silence before her boisterous cackling shatters the relative calmness of the night. You and several others instinctively turn to towards her. Her curls bounce as she laughs, gesturing towards the empty seat next to you with a mischievous smile. You nod and motion for her to join you. Squinting your eyes in amusement, your lips curl into a smile at the infectious energy.

Suppressing her giggles, she takes a seat next to you. "I'm Kay," she introduces herself. You exchange names and lean back in your chair.

"I don't recognize you. Are you new here?" You finish your drink, scrunching your nose at the bitter taste before responding, "No, not exactly. Lived in the northern colony til’ I was about 8 and my parents died in the mines… was moved here a little while after.”

Kay frowned and gave your arm a gentle squeeze, “I’m sorry…” There was a short pause before you spoke, voice soft “It’s been a while and I’ve had a lot of time to process everything, but I appreciate the sentiment regardless.” You return her gesture with a small smile and nudged her playfully.

Kay suddenly looks more alive, her eyes filled with a playful glint. "Do you make a habit of staring at people, or is it just him?" You chuckle and glance around, shrugging your shoulders. "I enjoy observing others from time to time...and yes," you nudge her playfully, "I may stare at him a bit more than others." She smirks and nods. Side by side, the two of you silently observe those around you.

As you take a quick glance at pretty boy, your face scrunches up in confusion. You sit up taller and ask, "Wait, do you know him?"

She laughs quietly and confirms, "He's my cousin." You take a deep breath and face her. Kay watches as you start to speak, but you stop yourself mid-sentence. She raises an eyebrow in question. “I was going to apologize but I’m not sorry.” You shrug and give her a playful grin. She shakes her head with a smile, “You shouldn’t be anyway, he can be an asshole.”

You lean back and prop yourself up on your elbows, shaking your head in playful frustration, “Damn…I knew he was just a pretty face.“ Cliquing your tongue, you give her a grin. You look up and lock eyes with pretty boy, whose piercing blue stare take in every inch of you. He takes you in from head to toe before meeting your gaze again. You raise an eyebrow, feigning disinterest as if you had never noticed him before. He flashes a smile and winks at you, licking his lips playfully.

Kay snapped you out of your staring contest with a gentle push and a mischievous smile. "You've caught his eye now. What should I say when he inevitably asks about you?"

You burst into a fit of laughter before shrugging, "I have no idea. Let's just not tell him anything. I don't need to know about pretty boy and he doesn't need to know about me." You gesture towards him with a playful grin, briefly meeting his gaze. His eyes widen for a split second before he returns the grin. He takes this as an invitation and stands up, prompting you to do the same. "Sorry to cut this short, but I'm exhausted from my shift." Kay stands up and surprises you with a hug - awkward, yet oddly comforting. As you part ways, you turn to leave but pause, “I’ll see you soon?” You cringe internally at how needy it sounds, but are relieved when she nods and says, "I'll see you soon." With a genuine smile, she leaves.

Without paying any attention to the pretty boy with blue eyes, you turn and begin making your way home.

Next Part

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 6

Clark Kent + alien biology

I baked brownies earlier with like three times the amount of chocolate needed, and ate a huge chunk along with drinking a monster and I swear I almost met god.

Featuring kryptonian headcanons of mine.

Kinktober 2023 masterlist

Clark let out a shaky exhale as he was draped across the soft coverings of your shared bed. As he had looked through the documents that survived kryptons destruction, Clark had stumbled across what had looked like clothing of some sort. The ai of Jor-el had been pleased to explain that he had found the information and placed it somewhere for Clark to find, as he now had a partner, that being you. It turned out to be clothing kryptonians had worn the first while after finding their perfect partner, and doing what would count as a marriage on earth.

The clothes looked almost like robes, except for tighter breathable fabric around the torso with flower fabric on top, the fabric sticking to the torso having what looked like a cut-out near the solar plexus. Clark had thought it reminded him of those shirts with a boob window, except this was placed lower. He knew of the sunspot found in kryptonians, an organ placed where humans possessed their solar plexus. Its purpose served to store the excess radiation of the sun, but documents said that it became a pleasure spot for the kryptonian if touched by their accepted partner.

It hadn’t been long since you two got married, and Clark swore he felt his sunspot growing raw to the touch and much more sensitive. He got no pleasure from touching it himself, but the few times you’d hugged him from behind and your arms had touched the spot, a bolt of heat had run through his body and almost made him buckle at the knees.

That was why he had found a way to make the specific outfit kryptonians wore for their partner, some part of his more primal urges had wanted you to touch him and kiss him, to scent him with your human scent that was so much stronger than his own kryptonian one. Because of kryptonians lack of ability to sweat, Clark had always been strongly drawn to your own, be it your normal scent, sweat or musk.

That was how you found him, splayed out on your bed in his best attempt to look enticing, even as he blushed and looked so shy. You didn’t have the ability to purr like kryptonians, a fact you only knew as your husband had told you that it was something they did. You would never be able to hear Clark’s purring, as it was at a frequency impossible for humans, but the knowledge that he possessed the ability was always enough to leave you feeling hot under the collar.

Clark moaned softly as you clamored up the bed and between his strong thighs, spreading them enough to see the small edit he had done to the kryptonian clothing, a slit near the back of the pants, enough for you to be able to pull his cheeks apart and have your way with him. He grew redder as you smirked at him, holding his legs up by the knees so you could do just that, groaning in appreciation at the feeling of the thick muscle under your fingers as you opened him up.

Your fingers met wetness as you pushed them inside him, he had already opened himself up and left enough lube that it would be no struggle to slip inside him already. There were no words between you as you freed your hard length and pushed it inside him, even as he keened as you grabbed the almost dangerously large bulge in the loose pants he wore. At times you were thankful that your husband liked to bottom so much, as you couldn’t imagine fitting the hardness you were groping inside a human body.

You pace was slow and adoring as you thrust in and out of him, mumbling what little kryptonian you knew, all of it being praise and declarations of love for the man beneath you. So powerful yet so kind and careful, so beautiful and ethereal. Both his human and alien features always amazed you, from the shape of his eyes or how his muscles looked just a little different from humans, or how his eyes caught the flare of a camera if he wasn’t wearing glasses.

It was only when you bottomed out completely that your tip pushed against the bundle of nerves inside Clark. It wasn’t the prostate, as kryptonians didn’t possess it, but it was close enough that you could have called it that. It always had your lovers back arching hard enough that you hissed in sympathy, but it also always had Clark’s cock spurting thick ropes of white like a leaky faucet, almost endlessly as you kept grinding against the nerves.

It was only after he grabbed your shoulder and pulled you down to cover his body with your own, desperately pulling you in to kiss you, his slightly sharper than human canines digging into your lip and scraping across your tongue. You found your hips moving faster, pushing more and more cum out of Clarks length, immediately staining the fine fabric of his pants even further. He hadn’t been able to get the exact fabric kryptonians had used, but apparently that stuff had been specifically made for the large amount of bodily fluids the species produced.

As you kissed, your tongue rubbing against his tongue that was longer than a humans ever could be, and was more flexible than ever would be possible for a human, you let your hands drag up his strong torso. As your hands came to rest around the middle of his torso, you let your thumbs rest on his sunspot, his breath hitching as his hips touched. But you were close, and you wanted to at least make it somewhat pleasing for your husband, and you had read the same documents as Clark, so you knew of the spot.

So, with precision, you thrust hard against the bundle of nerves inside him as you dug your thumbs into the sunspot on his torso, a high keened noise that warbled around the edges in a way that wasn’t human being forced out of his lungs as his dick gave a hard twitch and spilled even more, seemingly having no end. Even as you spilled inside him, Clark kept clenching and unclenching around you, his entire body twitching and jolting as you massaged your thumbs into his sunspot, as if to push his orgasm longer and longer until he could no more.

At some point he seemed to go limp. He was still hard, but that was no surprise, as he practically had no rest period between orgasms, but you did. So after removing the heavily stained pants from his lower body, and flopping down beside him, the two of you spent a while just holding each other and cuddling. You thought maybe that was it for tonight, that was until Clark grabbed onto your shoulders and rolled you onto your back, his strong hips sitting down in your naked lap as his eyes flared faintly red, his eyes wide with a hunger you only saw when he was incredibly needy.

Your poor length twitched, knowing just how drained you were gonna be after tonight, but the cute smile on Clarks face was enough for you to settle your hands on his hips and ready yourself for the ride of your life.

[rachalixie]

a/n: teeny little jisung comfort. <3

warnings: mention of eating trouble, mention of mental health, gn!reader

it’s the kind of day where you haven’t been able to catch your breath fully. where your brain feels kind of fuzzy around the edges in a way that you can’t fully describe. where you just don’t feel right, up until you walk through the door and collapse into jisung’s arms, distracting him from whatever game he’s been playing with felix all day. he removes his headphones, mumbling a quick goodbye to felix, and his response goes unheard when he drops them to the floor and wraps his arms around you right away. 

nothing feels right, you don’t have to say. i need you right now, you never have to voice. you’re the only comfort i have, goes understood without you having to open your mouth. all you have to do is hold onto him tighter and let out a wet sigh into his collar and he just knows. he knows you better than the back of his own hand; the number of times you’ve collapsed into him like this has trained him perfectly, just as the number of times he’s reached for you has trained you to know him just as well. 

“food or bed?” he asks, voice almost at a whisper as he runs a hand up and down your back, blunt nails trailing in swirling lines that you can feel through your sweater. he knows that sometimes when you’re like this you can’t eat, and while he’s almost sure that this is one of those times he would never take that choice away from you or assume things on your behalf. he knows you, but he knows that the person who knows you best is yourself. you tap twice on his back with your fingers, signaling that you want the latter option, and he walks you towards your shared bedroom. the walk is a little awkward with the way you’re tangled around each other, but this is such a practiced thing that you make it work. 

he settles you into the bed and presses a kiss to your forehead before whispering be right back. his absence pangs, even though he’s only a few meters away, noises from the kitchen invading your ears. he comes back with a tall glass of water sweating from the ice in it and a handful of your favorite snacks. 

“just in case you want them later, so you don’t have to get out of bed,” he explains as he places the items on the bedside table. he presses the cup of water to your lips for a moment, coaxing you into a sitting position so you don’t spill on yourself, and then the cup joins the selection of snacks. they’re little kid-sized bags that he bought specifically for you, knowing that you like to graze on snacks throughout the day rather than eating big meals. your eyes burn at his thoughtfulness; even though he’s been doing this for you for so long, every reminder of his kindness makes you that much more grateful for him. 

he settles into bed, letting you curl up around him. your breathing evens out with his until you’re breathing in sync, the rise and fall of his chest lulling you almost to sleep. 

“sing for me?” you ask, voice small as you look up at him. he looks into your eyes, the ones he could never say no to even if he wanted to, and he gives you a small smile. 

“what do you want me to sing for you, my heart?” he asks, voice rumbling from his chest right into your ear.

“you know,” you pout. asking for things was never easy, but you were so lucky to have a partner that could read your mind. 

he starts low, words softened around the edges, and by the time he gets to singing about being lonely and wanting someone to hold him you couldn’t hold back the tear that leaks into his shirt. this song is proof, he knows you. his words feel like they were pulled straight from your heart, etches of your soul spilling into every line and verse, the very essence of you in the melody escaping from his mouth. 

i’m an alien on this earth.

—

soft hours